


Whatever You Want

by mee4ever



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Awkward Sexual Situations, Bottom Derek Hale/Top Stiles Stilinski, Butt Plugs, Cheating, Confessions, Derek Deserves Nice Things, Established Scott McCall/Stiles Stilinski, Explicit Sexual Content, Fuckbuddies, Getting to Know Each Other, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Kink Exploration, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mentioned Kate Argent, Minor Allison Argent/Isaac Lahey/Scott McCall, Minor Derek Hale/Danny Mahealani, Oral Sex, POV Stiles, Past Kate Argent/Derek Hale, Rimming, Sex Toys, Smut, a lot of smut, but they break up and are just bros ok, most of it very sexual, so much stuff happens tbh?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-04-26 19:05:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14408589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mee4ever/pseuds/mee4ever
Summary: “I want to learn how to do that,” he says. "You have to teach me how to do that.”Derek ducks his head but looks up quickly. “I’ll teach you anything you want before you graduate,” he says and the promise make Stiles' stomach flip. After a taste of whatanythingcould be, Stiles wants to try it all.“Really?”Derek cuts the water off and drags the shower curtain open. “I can take it back.”“No!” Stiles yells and Derek raises a brow at him. Stiles laughs nervously. “No, I… I’d like to keep fucking you.”“Glad that’s settled,” Derek says with an eye roll.Or the one where Stiles goes on a sexploration with Derek as his teacher.





	Whatever You Want

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta-read. When I become a person that is patient enough to have one, I'll let you know.

And when he purringly asks if Stiles “wanna get out of here?” Stiles finds himself nodding and grabbing the man’s hand to lead him out as if this is a thing he’s done before, as if this is something he does regularly. It isn’t. Stiles has never in his entire life done anything like this. If he’s being completely honest, the only person he’s ever slept with is Scott and what they’ve done doesn’t even feel like it comes _close_ to what he and this man has done on the dance floor alone.  
  
Stiles follows, he follows because whereever this might lead, whatever happens, it feels like something he’s been missing, it feels like heat, like lust, and it feels like… _passion_. Something, he admits, he’s been seriously lacking and wants a taste of, and this Derek—this fucking extraterrestrial walking the earth—wants to show it to him.  
  
Of course, the man owns a fucking Camaro. What else would he have? With a body like a greek marble statue and a face of a god, it shouldn’t be a surprise that he has a slick, black car to match him. Stiles doesn’t have time to really reflect on what’s happening before Derek’s hand is down his trousers, feeling him up with a scowl plastered on his face. It takes Stiles a second before he can take a breath, but then Derek’s hand is gone and he’s reaching into his car, plucking something out of the glove compartment. Condom, Stiles understands when Derek re-surfaces. Condom and lube, and Stiles' mind goes blank. This hot fucking hunk of a man wants Stiles to _fuck him_.  
  
“I have a boyfriend,” Stiles says stupidly. At the same time, he presses Derek to the side of the car. Derek raises his eyebrows, but Stiles can’t stop himself from staring at his mouth.  
  
“Changed your mind?” flows over those plump lips and Stiles shakes his head. He should change his mind, he should leave, he should a lot of things, but what he _wants_ , is that mouth on his own again, so he surges forward and allows himself to want, to have, to take. Derek doesn’t seem to mind, he moans slightly as Stiles rubs up against him and Stiles silently wonders if they’re going to do this _in_ the car.  
  
Apparently, when you have a nice car, you don’t fuck in it. When you have an underground garage, what Derek chooses instead is a flight of emergency stairs right next to it. He moves Stiles towards it, just a couple of steps from the car, but more hidden than any other part of the space. When Derek’s back hits metal, he makes sure that Stiles softly crashes into him, flushing their bodies together again. It’s exhilarating, Derek nipping on his lips through rough kisses, hands roaming his body in a way which feels starved. Stiles must be a mess already. He feels like he can’t even think properly and his hands must be shaking; this is so much, this is new, this is- Well, frankly, not Scott, which makes it something Stiles has never tried.  
  
“I’ve never-” Stiles says but he cuts himself off. It’s embarrassing enough that he’s never done this before but to actually voice it feels even worse.  
  
Derek seems to grasp what he’s trying to say. “I thought you said you had a boyfriend? Is it a recent one? How _old_ are you?”  
  
“Ehm, twenty-two. And two years,” Stiles says and Derek gapes at him.  
  
“And you’ve never done anal?”

Stiles winces. “No,” he forces himself to answer.

“Fine, so do you want to do this anyway or…? Cause you look like you still want to fuck me.”

“Fuck,” Stiles breathes and then he just nods. Stiles thinks that maybe Derek smirks at him, but he’s too caught up to be sure. Stiles can’t see it, not really, but he can tell that Derek has somehow gotten his pants out of the way, he’s lubed up, surely, and is fucking himself with a finger ( _two_ fingers?) and Stiles cannot comprehend the situation more than that it’s so hot he does not know what to do with himself. He feels slightly like in a trance when he kisses Derek’s neck, bites at the flesh of his shoulder and when Derek whines at that, it’s like it sends signals to Stiles’ brain, telling him that the world is moving. He gets dizzy because it makes him feel so good.

“I hope you know how to use a condom,” Derek mutters and Stiles blushes, but he does know. He just hasn’t done it in a while. The process goes smoothly, though, undressing and covering up. Then he’s standing there: lubed up, condom on, his pants hiked down, shirt riding up, and about to fuck the most gorgeous man he’s ever seen, in an empty underground car park.

“And after that moment of reflection, would you ever so kindly come back to reality and do this?” Derek says and Stiles’ eyes snap to his.

“That’d be the plan,” Stiles says and Derek rolls his eyes, a gesture that should send Stiles into an annoyed mood but only makes him want this even more.

It is the most show-off thing Stiles has ever seen, when Derek hoists himself up by gripping the metal bars of the fire escape they’re currently flushed against, puts his legs around Stiles’ waist and sinks himself down on Stiles’ cock. It gets even worse when he proceeds to _keep doing that._ Derek single-handedly moves himself up and down Stiles’ dick like the whole thing is an orchestrated work out, where Stiles is mainly a tool for Derek to use. Not that Stiles is complaining; buried deep inside Derek, hot and heavy, is heaven. He doesn’t think anything in his entire life has ever felt so good, but Stiles feels slightly inadequate. Then, he realizes that it is because he’s basically not doing anything.  Wanting to change that immediately, he puts his hands on Derek’s flush body, claws his fingers under his tight shirt and gets appreciative noises in return. He wants to kiss, to feel Derek’s breaths in his mouth, to taste Derek’s moans, but doing it this way doesn’t allow such a thing, so Stiles takes what he can. He touches Derek everywhere he can, he stares at him, licks his chest, and tries not to topple over.

Derek knows exactly what he's doing, which makes the affair rather quick. Stiles doesn’t mind, because he doesn’t think he could make a long run with all the new sensations, with the feeling of Derek’s ass.

Soon, Derek holds up for a second to reach down one of his hand to grab Stiles' and moving him to wrap it around his cock. He doesn’t say anything but it’s clear he wants to get jerked off, so Stiles complies; if there’s something he knows, it’s how to touch a cock. Derek grabs the metal bars again once he understands Stiles really knows what to do, and he fucks himself until he comes. Stiles makes Derek come on Derek’s own stomach because it’s the least clothed place and when he does, Stiles goes almost blind because Derek is clenching around him, the tightness too much, too much… then Stiles is coming too.

~~

“I slept with someone.”

It’s over the breakfast table. Less than twelve hours later. It’s with Scott’s hand in his own, sitting across the table, their eyes locked. It feels almost too easy to say it. Just as easy as it had been to do it.

“You did?” Scott asks and Stiles nods. It makes him slightly confused when Scott looks sort of relieved at that. That is, of course, until he admits, “I did too.”

Surprise flooding his veins, Stiles says “Really?” before he can stop himself. This time, Scott nods and the tension makes them both move their gaze to stare at their conjoined hands. Neither of them has been extremely sexual; Stiles had just guessed that’s why they’d never really explored their sexualities or what to do in bed. Handjobs in different variation of lazy or eager had seemed enough for Scott, so it had been enough for Stiles. At least, for a long time. Now, even without knowing what Scott did with someone else, it feels like maybe they just hadn’t realized that they weren’t supposed to fuck each other at all.

“You know Allison and Isaac? I’ve told you about them, right?” Scott starts and Stiles nods his confirmation. “Well,” Scott says and fumbles with his free hand. “I kind of haven’t really mentioned you to them. Okay, I have, but the term I’ve used might have been ‘roommate’ rather than ‘boyfriend’ and so it wasn’t really like they _knew_ when they asked…”

Yeah, Stiles thinks, they really should’ve taken a look at their relationship months and months ago. “It’s weird,” he says with a frown, “because I… I love you. I really do, but I’m not entirely sure I’ve ever really, truly, been… you know, _in love_ with you?” He sees Scott’s face smooth out in surprise and he hurries to add, “That was very insensitive of me, I’m-”

“No, it’s fine,” Scott says and he squeezes Stiles’ hand. “I understand. And I think maybe… we were playing it a bit safe?”

Stiles only nods. They’d moved away together when they started college and everything else was fresh and new and it was exciting, but they’d held on tight to each other. After a year and a half, after a dozen drunken kisses and an accidental hook-up when they’d slept in the same bad, they’d simply decided that getting together felt like the best option. It wasn’t like much had changed between them. They get off together, kiss each other goodbye and hello and they hold hands in public. Other than that, things have stayed mostly the same. They still have separate beds, they don’t go on dates, and they have been comfortable with that.

Scott clears his throat. “Do you… Who did you…?”

“His name’s Derek.”

Nodding, Scott asks, “Do you love him?”

“No. I don’t even know him. I’m not even sure I’ll ever see him again.” Although, Stiles hopes that he does. He’d like to fuck him without it being a work-out.

“Okay.” A beat passes before he asks, “How was it?”

After snorting, Stiles smiles. “Amazing. Passionated. Dirty?”

Scott laughs and it doesn’t sound fake or sad. Maybe this was for the best. Maybe they’d just fallen into a comfortable normalness that they didn’t mind, but also weren’t heads over heels over. And just like that, they were just roommates and best friends again.

~~

Stiles sees him and it’s not love—because that would be too cheesy—but there’s a connection still there. A connection Stiles cannot ignore and he slides up to Derek, a hand placed on his waist and his lips close to the man’s ear and uses the line, “You ever let a guy fuck you twice?”

Derek doesn’t turn his head, he only glances at Stiles before downing the last of his drink. He captures Stiles between his knees as he turns to face him. “You know what?” he says with a straight face. “Maybe I’ll make an exception.”

Stiles, feeling bold, puts his hands on Derek’s shoulders and leans in. “You can mend me into doing it _exactly_ how you want it.” Derek raises an eyebrow and it clearly says “can I now?” in a stoic manner. Stiles wants to learn how to speak silently like that. “Oh yes,” he says and presses up against him, “I’m a clean canvas, baby, and I want everything.”

Licking his lips, Derek nods once, interest seeping out of his eyes. The smolder he has looks close to intimidating, especially because his gaze never wavers, but it just makes Stiles want to shed all his clothes. “Sounds like fun,” Derek admits.

“Fun is my middle name.” Stiles wonders if either of them is supposed to offer the other a drink or if there are any other things that you’re supposed to in a situation like this, but he doesn’t care. If Derek wants this, him, he’ll just get it plain and simple. Stiles leans in and kisses him. It’s just as intriguing this time, solid and hot, and Stiles thinks that he might never tire of it. “Take me to yours,” he whispers against Derek’s lips.

Derek leans his head to the side and Stiles nips at his neck. “Don’t usually bring guys home,” Derek says.

“Nah, you just fuck them in your car, don’t you?” Stiles teases and Derek doesn’t even look amused. “I’m sorry; you let them fuck _you_ , _beside_ your car.”

“Do you even want to go home with me?” Derek threatens, as in "if you don’t stop talking, I’ll leave without you".

“Didn’t think you took guys to your place?” Stiles challenges him. It pays off because Derek pushes Stiles’ face down to kiss him again.

“Maybe I’ll make an exception.”

~~

“Can… Can I try?” Stiles asks.

Derek scoffs. “I forget how innocent you are.”

“I’m not innocent! I’m just… inexperienced.”

He watches Derek from the edge of the bed. Actually, it’s not even considered a bed; it’s just a mattress on the floor, but at least he has bedside tables so Stiles feels like maybe he has tried going for a more rough look, rather than he is a savage. Derek sits on the opposite end, back against the pillows, legs spread, naked, and he’s opening himself on his fingers again. The naked part alone is good enough for Stiles for this whole encounter. Last time, he couldn't exactly see much of Derek, and there is plenty to go around. He’s pleased that now he can truly appreciate all muscles planes of Derek’s body that he so clearly puts a lot of time and effort into looking like that. And being able to see exactly what his fingers are doing to himself? Yeah, that feels just like a bonus. Stiles really wants to try for himself, though.

“So? Can I?”

Derek all but rolls his eyes, but he slips his fingers out of himself and motions for Stiles to come over. Stiles is still wearing pants and socks so he scrambles up to throw them off before walking over to Derek on all fours. Despite Derek not seeming to have any problems with Stiles’ cock—he is after all here to get fucked by him _again_ —Stiles keeps his boxers on for now. He is, as he said: inexperienced, and feels self-conscious just being this level of naked next to a man who looks like he has stepped down from heaven. Derek doesn’t comment. Stiles maneuvers himself down on the mattress in front of Derek, sliding his feet and legs underneath Derek’s and clasps his ankles together behind Derek’s back. The seat makes Derek’s puckering hole accessible, at the same time as they’re close, touching, and Stiles looks at Derek and tries not to look like he has no idea what he’s doing.

“I have no idea what I’m doing.” Smooth, Stilinski.

Derek hands him a bottle of lube. “Plenty,” he says. Stiles nods and his hands practically shake when accepts the bottle. If he didn’t know better, he would’ve thought this was his first time with another man, like, _at all_. He clears his throat and pours lube onto his fingers. He looks up under his eyelashes at Derek, who’s watching him cooly.

“And now?”

“Rub it between your fingers. Warm it up a bit.”

Stiles nods and does as told, rubbing his thumb to his index and long finger. The plastic smell of it is faint, not as stark as condoms but enough so to make Stiles very aware of what he’s about to do.

It’s not like he’s been completely oblivious to what you _can_ do when you’re having sex, he’s just not been thinking too much about exploring all of them. Now, with his fingers dripping with lube, there are about one hundred different things coursing through his mind with things he actually wants to try.

“I think that’s enough, Stiles.”

Stiles likes to hear Derek say his name. It feels filthy in his mouth, and it makes Stiles think about all the things he could put in Derek’s mouth beside it. Derek leans back against his pillows, making it even further easier for Stiles to touch him when he himself doesn’t have to reach down at a good angle. He keeps one of his hands splayed down over his thigh and tucks the other one behind his neck. It looks so casual, Stiles wonders how much you have to fuck to be able to look so at ease knowing someone else is gonna put their body in yours.

“Do I just…?” Stiles holds his fingers up awkwardly.

Derek shrugs a shoulder. “I’m already a bit stretched, obviously, but you can start with one if you’re uncertain.” Without even smiling, Derek looks like he thinks this is funny. It makes Stiles want to become so good at this he can wipe Derek’s face into a pleasurable moan with just his pinky. For now, he follows Derek’s directions and looks down again. Derek’s half-hard dick is distracting for a second because Stiles gets the sudden impulse that he wants to suck it. Maybe later, he thinks and moves his gaze further down. Derek’s slick and pink, and as he’d said himself, already a bit stretched. The sight is intoxicating and Stiles puts the tip of his index finger to his skin and just moves it slightly around his hole.

“Inside,” Derek says impatiently.

“Are you in a hurry?”

“No, but-”

Stiles hushes him and Derek clenches his teeth together. Stiles is going to take his time, and it makes him feel nice when Derek doesn’t protest further. Stiles puts his other hand on Derek’s thigh, just above the hand Derek has there himself, and then he drags a wet finger along Derek’s rim. Derek shifts, just slightly, and Stiles moves his finger across. The tip dips into Derek momentarily, and Derek inhales sharply. Stiles looks up into his face. He looks like he didn’t just react strongly at Stiles’ finger, but as if Stiles is almost boring him. Stiles grins slowly and dips his finger inside him again, this time keeping it inside him. Derek clenches his teeth again, but not in resignation this time. Now, it’s like he doesn’t want Stiles to see that he’s enjoying himself.

“Like this?” Stiles asks and pushes in, to the first knuckle. It’s easy, barely any resistance, just heat, and wetness. Derek is so lax around him, even though his face looks like he’s all but calm. Stiles wonders briefly if he forces himself to be relaxed.

“Yes,” Derek bites out.

“What can I do now?” He deliberately asks “can” and not “should”, and Derek looks almost pissed at the distinction.

“Anything,” he says.

“What about this?” Stiles pushes inside him further, bending his finger slightly. Derek just gruffs, so Stiles takes that as a yes and presses his entire finger inside. Derek says nothing. Stiles looks down at his hole again. He literally has his finger lodged in another man’s ass. It feels a bit surreal. He pulls half his finger out, rather quickly, and Derek’s muscle goes a bit tense. It’s not much and it’s over in a second, but Stiles takes it as guidance and pulls out the rest of the way much slower. It seems to work a lot better.

Derek lets Stiles explore. It’s strange and awkward, sexy and a turn-on, all at once. Watching his own finger slip in and out of Derek is good all on its own, but as Stiles adds a second, as he tests out a couple different ways of bending and twisting them, Derek’s breaths and tiny sounds make it all better. He’s quite sure he doesn’t get it completely _right,_ that he doesn’t find exactly where inside him and how to rub him to make Derek feel like he’s bursting at the edges, but he finds that Derek thoroughly enjoys having his hole played with. Not to go deep or fast, just slide his fingers inside to the first knuckle and bend them and unbend them, pulling one finger out while letting the other one stay inside him, rubbing at his rim without even going inside. It’s when Stiles does this that Derek’s composure fails him the most, when the arm he has under his neck is suddenly over his face instead, hiding from Stiles’ gaze. It’s then, that Derek starts moaning. Softly and rugged, like he’s desperate to have what Stile’s is giving him, but he doesn’t know how to want it. His cock pulsates against his lower abdomen, slicking up with pre-come, and he clenches down on Stiles’ fingers all the time, but not in the same way as when Stiles has done something wrong. Now, it looks more like it’s to get more friction, to make himself feel even better. Stiles can just stare and keep going. It’s impossible to stop and this just makes Stiles think of even more ways he’d like to try and please him. Thoughts of rim jobs, vibrators, sucking his dick while fingering him, and eating him out are just the top candidates, and Stiles sure hopes that Derek will bend his rules and fuck him a third time after this.

Stiles would’ve let Derek come like this without a problem, but Derek doesn’t even let it go on for long. “Get on—”Derek body betrays him, because he has to swallow before he can continue”—just, get on with it.”

“But you’re liking this,” Stiles says and looks up at his face again.

Derek grips his wrist, for the first time actually using the hand down by his thigh, and pushes Stiles’ fingers unmercifully deep inside of himself. “I’m sure you want- to fuck me,” Derek responds, “and I rather you do it today.”

Stiles swallows. “What should I do?”

Derek moves his hips at the same speed Stiles moves his fingers, making sure he takes Stiles’ fingers as deeps as they go. “Add a third,” he says. His voice is rough and demanding, so Stiles takes his fingers all the way out to get some more lube before slowly pushing his ring finger in with the other. This time, he’s met with more resistance. Not because Derek is in any way tenser, but because he’s not loose enough. He pushes against Stiles, making it go easier, but Stiles is intrigued by this new sensation. He figures this is how it would have been from the beginning if Derek hadn’t started fingering himself. Stiles goes slow, but Derek ushers him to do it harder. It doesn’t make him uncomfortable, but a little wary as Derek winces and still asks him to do it more. He can only trust that Derek knows what he’s doing.

Just as it gets easier to fuck him with all three fingers, Derek makes him stop and throws a condom at his chest. ”Now,” he says. He gets up on his knees as Stiles fumbles to open the packet, and waves at Stiles to move back. With the packet half ripped between his teeth, Stiles gets up on his knees too and backs away. Derek stops him with a hand on his thigh before he spins around and gets down on all fours, unashamedly presenting his lube-dripping ass to Stiles. Stiles drops the condom out of his mouth and gets back to reality when it hits his leg and he looks down, realizing he’s wearing underwear still. He gets up and throws them off. Derek on all fours looks like he’s inviting Stiles to take him, and Stiles’ mouth is so dry he doesn’t know if he can keep breathing.

Then Derek looks at him over his shoulder, scowl in place. “Are you just gonna stand there?”

Stiles shakes his head quickly and manages to get the condom fully open and he rolls it on. Derek shakes his head too. It makes Stiles feel like a moron, but then Derek wiggles his ass and Stiles laughs.

“C’mon.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m doing it, chill out.” Stiles drops down to his knees and shuffles up to align with him. When he presses inside, Derek groans, but it goes easy. Stiles isn’t as hung as Derek, but he can't complain about his inches, and Derek definitely doesn’t seem to think there’s anything wrong with them when he takes them all in one go. Derek flails a hand forward like he’s looking for a headboard that isn’t there and he has to settle for grabbing the sheets.

As last time, Derek does most of the actual work; pressing back against Stiles, taking him all the way to the base before rucking forward. Stiles is too lost in the sensation for quite a while to even begin to process everything. He only can make sure to meet Derek as he thrusts back against him, moans coming out louder and louder. Stiles would’ve thought he’d get better at composing himself. Reality tells him that he gets worse. Everything makes him feel so good, it’s comfortable on the bed, Derek makes the most pleasant sounds, and he fucks himself on Stiles dick with such vigor that it only takes minutes before Stiles is rendered useless och stuttering.

“Derek, you gotta- slow, I’m gonna-” Derek surely hears him, but he doesn’t stop. Neither does he slow down; he only shortens his thrusts and chases the orgasm quickly out of Stiles. It’s no use of Stiles to even try to hold back because it wouldn’t be possible either way, so he just lets Derek fuck down on him and moans loudly as he comes, buried deep inside Derek's ass. His hips snap by themselves, and Derek whines at that. He reaches a hand back and pushes at Stiles, who’s too orgasm high for a second longer before he can pull out of Derek. It doesn’t compute what Derek’s doing as he’s moving around on the bed, but as he moves away from in front of Stiles, Stiles seizes the moment and falls down onto his stomach. He feels weary and warm.

Derek hasn’t come yet, though. “Fuck,” he says through gritted teeth from Stiles’ side. “Let me…” He doesn’t say what he wants, but he flips Stiles onto his back and aligns himself on top of him and for a second Stiles goes still. What is he-

“Thighs together,” Derek growls and Stiles complies, feeling the wetness of Derek’s cock between them. Derek pushes down. Stiles, still recovering, stares him in the face as he fucks his cock down between Stiles’ thighs, short and quick like he just needs that little last bit of friction before he comes. Stiles realizes pretty quickly that he _is_ close, and he reaches up to Derek’s neck and forces his face down to bite his lower lip. Derek gasps into Stiles’ mouth before going rigid and tense. Stiles feels the steady streams of cum at the back of his thighs as Derek moves the ever tiniest bit to drag himself through his climax. His eyes are pressed together and he looks thoroughly pissed.

“You okay there, big guy?” Stiles drags a hand over his arm and finally, Derek looks down at him.

“Ugh,” he says and then he’s pressing Stiles into the mattress with his entire body. It could’ve been sexy if Derek had done it with intent rather than exhaustion. Still, Stiles doesn't really mind. It feels solid and comforting after his orgasm and he’s always liked a good cuddle. Thinking about it, that’s probably the one thing he’s going to miss about Scott not being his boyfriend anymore. Naked cuddles.

After a minute, the stickiness starts making itself known. Stiles still has his condom and cum covered cock trapped between himself and Derek, and Derek’s cum is drying on his legs. He shifts a little. “Derek.”

“Should shower,” Derek groans. He doesn’t make a move to get up.

“That is a great idea,” Stiles says. “Party for two?”

Derek just groans again.

“Party for one; got it.”

Derek’s kind enough to let Stiles shower first. Stiles adds his own number into Derek’s phone when Derek takes it after him. Derek doesn’t have a passcode, so he’ll just have to suit himself. Stiles shoots himself a text and then he sneaks out of the loft.

~~

He sends Derek exactly one text in the upcoming week. “ _I’m fucking you next time_.” He sends it just after he gets home, as he’s talking to Scott about Marvel versus DC and he feels like Derek is his dirty little secret. Stiles wants to fuck him in every way possible, in every position he can possibly think of.

Derek, however, doesn’t answer it. Stiles can’t blame him. It’s not like Stiles even asked if they could exchange numbers.

~~

The response comes the following Friday. “ _Show me what you got then, big guy._ ” It’s not even nine and Stiles’ heart hammers almost out of his chest. Derek didn’t go out. He didn’t try to find someone else to fuck, he didn’t have Stiles as a backup. Granted, Stiles is probably one of the easiest lays because he literally just grabs his jacket and keys and is out the door, but Derek wouldn’t text him at all if he didn’t think Stiles was at least intriguing enough to fuck again. And this is coming from a guy who doesn’t seem to fuck a lot of guys more than once.

When Derek slides the door to his loft open he’s naked. Like, dick out-naked. Stiles blinks and licks his lips.

“This would've been awkward if I’d been just about anyone else.”

Derek takes a step back and allows Stiles to step in. “I saw you coming up.”

“I can see that.” Stiles cocks his head and looks down at Derek’s cock, perking with interest. “Did you finger yourself open for me, Derek?” he asks.

“Christ, Stiles,” Derek says like somehow Stiles is crude for asking when Derek is the one already butt naked.

“Well, did you?”

Derek smirks. “Maybe.” He turns as Stiles takes his jacket and shoes off, showing off his glistening ass and Stiles almost topples over. He did indeed get himself ready for Stiles. It’s possibly the hottest thing Stiles has ever experienced, and his dick fills out faster than he can get his clothes off. Derek saunters off towards his bed and Stiles follows, discarding clothes along the way.

As Stiles is almost upon him, just as naked, Derek turns suddenly. He grabs Stiles’ neck in an iron grip, their bodies so close together, Derek’s intimidating eyebrows all up in Stiles’ face. “If you ever touch my phone again, I’ll rip your throat out. With my teeth. Got that?”

“Got that,” Stiles says and swallows. Derek’s hot when he’s threatening with murder, so Stiles presses in, flushing their bodies together, kissing him. Derek can’t have expected it because he recoils slightly before he lets Stiles shove his tongue down his throat.

“Condom?” Stiles groans against his lips.

“Bedside table.”

Derek lets Stiles fuck him doggy-style again. Not without moving with him, but he does follow Stiles’ rhythm rather than he makes his own, which Stiles has to count for something. And Stiles gets to feel like he’s actually participating. His hands clasped on Derek’s hips, fingers digging into his flesh when he moves him up and down his shaft. Stiles still feels like he knows nothing about what he’s doing and before he’s really gotten a good pace and hard stroke, he keeps asking Derek how it feels or how he wants it because he can’t listen to any sounds Derek’s making, because he _doesn’t_ make any sounds yet. Derek doesn’t exactly tell Stiles what he wants as much as he tells him different things he can try. At one point, Stiles thinks Derek will completely give up. He doesn’t look to be one of those guys who wants to talk a lot while getting fucked, but he keeps indulging Stiles when Stiles tells him that he wants to know how to do it well.

Stiles can’t help but grin widely when Derek suddenly moans out a “just like that” when Stiles thrusts into him, from the tip to the base in one long, hard stroke.

“Like this?” Stiles asks when he pulls out and drives back into him.

Derek howls. “Yes, yes, fuck-” Stiles cuts him off by doing it again. And again. And again. Derek has definitely not before made the sounds he does now. It makes Stiles preen and speed up, pounding into him almost too much. Derek suddenly stops moving back against Stiles, just braces himself so that Stiles can keep fucking him in the same manner, and it takes a second before Stiles understand why he does. It seems Derek doesn’t want a repeat of last time, because he’s pumping his cock with one of his hands, biting out moans and curses alternately.

Stiles not as much hears it when Derek comes, as he feels it. He clenches his ass down on Stiles’ dick, and because Stiles is fucking him so hard, so fast, it completely knocks him out. His own orgasm was building up, now it punches through him completely. They shake through it together.

Stiles realizes after several minutes of heavy panting that he’s pressing his nails into Derek’s skin and he releases slowly. Derek lets out a breath like he was waiting for Stiles to do it, instead of just telling him to get off. Stiles sits back on his legs, pulling out slowly in the process. Derek rolls down next to the stain of cum he left on the mattress.

Stiles catches his gaze. “Now that,” he says and points at Derek, “must’ve earned me a shower for two.”

Derek snorts but takes Stiles’ hand when he rolls off the bed and Stiles willingly, eagerly, follows the still stark naked, practically dripping, Derek through his loft. Stiles desperately doesn’t want to think about the fact that his and Derek’s hands fit perfectly together so he blurts out, “What do you work with?”

“Art gallery.”

“You mean, you’re a lifelong, around the clock piece of performance art?” Stiles looks around and shields his sensitive bits. “Are we being filmed right now?”

Derek gives him a stony look. “I put on shows and sell people’s paintings and sculptures.”

Stiles wants to tell him that he’s a masterpiece himself, but doesn’t want to sound like he thinks Derek should sell himself. “Do you like it?” he asks instead.

Derek keeps looking at him, now like no one has ever asked him that before and he doesn't know what to say. “Yes,” he finally settles on.

“Cool. I’m studying my last term, criminology major. I’m going to work for the FBI.”

Derek opens the bathroom door and turns the shower on. “Cool,” he echoes and Stiles can’t tell if he’s mocking him.

Stiles grabs the condom and gets it off, ties it and throws it in the trash before Derek drags him into the shower. The water is scalding hot, just as Stiles likes it and he lets out a sigh if pleasure.

“Good?” Derek asks.

“Perfect,” Stiles purrs. But the whole thing isn’t as cool as it seems to be when you talk about showering with someone. It takes them a while to even figure out the logistics, Derek _is_ a big guy, and still, Stiles really enjoys it. Derek’s naked frame is nice to look at and the water soaks them nicely. There’s really only one more thing that he wants. He pours some soap into his hands and holds them up to Derek.

Derek arches a magnificent brow. “You want to wash me?”

“Why else would I want to be wet and naked with you than to have a shameless reason to touch your entire body?”

Derek snorts and shakes his head, not as denial but as if Stiles keeps surprising him.

“Honestly, Derek, someone should appreciate your hard work, and it might as well be me.

Derek looks up from under his eyelashes. “Be my guest.”

“With pleasure,” Stiles says and smacks his hands onto Derek’s chest.

Stiles probably washes and watches every inch of Derek too intently. He treats him almost like a Lego model he’s trying to figure out all the parts of, but he can’t help himself. Derek lets him do all these things, and for being in a relationship for two years where he didn’t want to try or explore anything, Stiles surely doesn’t tire of inspecting every last part of Derek.

Derek looks at Stiles like he’s a cute puppy learning something new. Stiles doesn’t know if he should be offended by the look, or if it should make him feel warm. Mostly, it makes him want to shove Derek against a wall. So he does. Surprisingly, when Stiles pushes on Derek’s shoulders, Derek is compliant and easily moved to the other side of the shower, his head bumping into the wall and Stiles crashing into him. They’re out of the water’s reach, Stiles can only feel a couple of droplets on his back so Derek reaches forward to turn it off. Stiles slaps his hand away. “Hey! It’ll get cold!”

Derek pulls his hand back quickly and looks up at him, his gaze scrutinizing. “Okay.”

Stiles blinks. Once. Twice. Maybe not now, but some other time (Stiles is fairly certain this will happen even further more times) he’s going to explore that reaction. Now, he just moves in, a knee between Derek’s legs and he reaches up to kiss him and reaches down to touch him.

He jacks Derek off quickly, having him gasp and curse, bite at Stiles’ lips and come again within minutes. Stiles knows a good handjob, after all.

Stiles backs into the hot stream again, smirking and his eyes closed and washes Derek’s cum off himself.

“Stiles.”

“Mhm, yeah?”

“I’m going to suck your cock now and if you want to come down my throat, that’s fine.”

Stiles opens his eyes and sees Derek’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallows, lips wet, and it’s a bit strange to see him look almost uncertain after a statement like that. Stiles tries to look confident when he answers, “Good.”

The response draws a baffled look on Derek’s face, but Stiles doesn’t have time to ponder it for long. Derek’s hands are on him, moves him around so they change places, now Stiles is the one with his back against the wall, and then Derek simply drops to his knees.

Stiles decides quickly that blowjobs are better than handjobs. Maybe because he’s very used to handjobs and this is the first time anyone blows him, but he’s pretty sure there’s no way in hell there’s anything that’s more of a turn-on than having a gorgeous man sucking your dick. Especially, when Derek looks up and meets Stiles’ gaze, his mouth is stuffed with Stiles’ dick and he has a look on his face that says that he’s loving it and he _really_ hopes Stiles does too. Stiles loses his breath after that. His composure fails him when Derek takes one of Stiles’ hands and tangles it into his wet hair. He doesn’t dare to press, but he holds on tightly as Derek takes him even further down his throat. It’s toe-curling amazing and Stiles feels his knees starting to shake.

“Fuck,” he manages to say, but then Derek slides a wet hand up his thigh and rolls his balls between his fingers and Stiles is _done._ Involuntarily, he bucks his hips forward and he thinks Derek might choke, but Stiles is in the midst of coming down his throat so he’s not sure what else is happening. Derek keeps sucking him down, though, so with the little brain power Stiles has left, he hopes that means Derek is fine.

When Stiles is catching his breath, Derek comes back up. He has a smug look on his face and Stiles wants to kiss him breathless but he can’t even breathe himself so he just looks at him. “I want to learn how to do that,” he says, crashing his head into the tiles. “You have to teach me how to do that.”

Derek ducks his head but looks up quickly. “I’ll teach you anything you want before you graduate,” he says and the promise make Stiles' stomach flip. After a taste of what _anything_ could be, Stiles wants to try it all.

“Really?”

Derek cuts the water off and drags the shower curtain open. “I can take it back.”

“No!” Stiles yells and Derek raises a brow at him. Stiles laughs nervously. “No, I… I’d like to keep fucking you.”

“Glad that’s settled,” Derek says with an eye roll. He throws a towel in Stiles’ face, wraps one around his own waist and waves at Stiles before leaving the bathroom without looking back.

~~

Derek texts him. “ _Get over here if you want another lesson_.” It sounds weirdly threatening and sexual at the same time, and Stiles has to blow him off because he has plans go back home over the weekend. “ _Your loss_ ,” Derek says and Stiles winces because it kind of is.

But, he gets in earlier than expected on Sunday. He texts Derek, who responds within minutes that if he’s up for a non-educational quickie, he has an hour. Stiles rushes over and manages to even butt in some very nice foreplay before he’s out Derek’s door again in fifty-eight minutes. Scott asks him about it, but Stiles lies and says a friend needed some help. Scott buys it. Stiles hasn’t told him about the whole sexual exploration yet and he’d like to keep it that way for now. Sex, Derek, and sex with Derek, is just Stiles’. Maybe he’s a little possessive like that, who's gonna blame him?

Up until this point, they’ve only done weekends. All of a sudden, Derek texts him on a Wednesday, at what must be directly after he has come home from work because it’s not even six. Stiles, with half his takeaway dinner eaten, holds a mouthful of noodles to his face and stares at the text. “ _Wanna ride you._ ” Does he mean now? Does he mean generally? Does he mean that this is the version of him sexting? Stiles puts the chopsticks in his mouth and responds. “ _Bet you do, big boy_.” Stiles can hear Derek’s groan without even being in the same block as him, and yet the answer comes back needier than expected. “ _Come over and I’ll show you how it’s done._ ” He sucks on the sticks for a second, contemplating his answer.

“Who are you texting?”

Stiles flails and drops the chopsticks onto the table. “Jesus, Scott, make your presence known, will you?”

Scott grins. “Sorry, man.”

Stiles breathes out, puts away the phone without answering and picks up his chopsticks again. “And I’m not texting anyone special.” He hopes that his flushed chest isn’t visible in the shirt that he’s wearing.

“You sure?” Scott says and throws him a look over his shoulder when he scours the fridge. “You looked kind of…” Scott just motions to Stiles and even if he doesn't say anything more, Stiles knows exactly what he means.

“It might _become_ someone special,” Stiles says and it feels a bit strange. Not like Derek will ever fall for _Stiles,_ and Stiles, for that matter, hasn’t fallen for Derek and he never will. It’s just sex. But it’s easier to go with romance when it comes to Scott.

“Uh-hu,” Scott says and turns back to him. “Really?” And it’s like they were never a couple. Jealousy is non-existent in his expression, and he’d be a hypocrite if it were because he and those two he cheated on Stiles with seems to be an even more permanent fixture in _his_ life.

“Yeah,” Stiles says and scratches the back of his head. “I guess we’ll see. I’m seeing him tonight.”

“Cool,” Scott says and he eyes Stiles’ food. “No luck you don’t want the rest of that?”

“Bro, buy your own food!” Stiles says and grips his container.

“Fine,” Scott grumbles and picks up his phone and leaves the room. Stiles looks after him, then picks up his own. He notes that Derek isn’t usually so forthgoing with what _he_ wants, which makes Stiles eager to indulge him. “ _Be there in twenty. DON’T get yourself ready, Der Bear._ ”

~~

To Stiles’ surprise, even with the use of a, as Derek so delicately puts it, “disgusting pet name”, did Derek listen to Stiles’ request not to finger himself open. He doesn’t look all too pleased about it, but Stiles gets working on him quickly. With Derek on his back, knees bent and spread wide apart, Stiles seats himself comfortably between his legs. He wants to try it more to just play with his rim because he hasn’t been able to the other times, but Derek’s too impatient and only groans at him not to mess around.

“ _Fine_ ,” Stiles says, mocking Derek’s tone of voice and presses two fingers into him harshly. Derek growls and bites at him, but rolls his hips and his ass swallows the fingers easily enough. Derek raises his head from the pillow to scowl at him and Stiles raises his eyebrows to see if Derek will question him. He doesn’t. Stiles sees it as a victory. He lets Stiles finger him with only the two fingers, but enough so that he’s loose and quietly moaning by the time he extends a leg and practically kicks Stiles away.

“Hey!”

“Get up. Sit against the wall.”

Stiles crawls up and does, grabbing a condom and rolling it on while Derek sits back on his heels next to him. “You can at least kiss me to apologize for _kicking_ me when I do nothing but make you feel nice.”

Derek looks amused, but he gets into Stiles’ lap, strong thighs on either side of Stiles’ legs and he reaches down his head to kiss Stiles gently on the lips before he—without warning—sinks down on Stiles’ cock. They both gasp.

“Fucker.”

“You like it.” Derek snakes his arms around Stiles’ neck when he pulls away and sits up straighter. Although, there’s nothing straight about him slowly fucking himself on Stiles’ cock. It’s very gay, and very hot, especially so because Derek keeps looking at Stiles. Every time he moves his body down, his lips quiver and he whines deliciously, and his eyebrows go from intimidating to seriously yearning. Stiles wants to eat him.

Derek most definitely knows what he’s doing. He seems to place himself in the middle of the scale of “making himself feel good” and “making Stiles feel good” and it makes them both constantly try to get more. Derek doesn’t stop Stiles when he grabs Derek’s ass and presses to bring him down harder, but he does get a slightly more cautious look in his eye.

“Are you only fucking me in these positions because I’m inexperienced and you think I can’t handle anything else, or because it means you can take control and you want to be or be able to do that?” Stiles asks. “Because I wouldn’t mind just having you take it, sometime. ”

Derek slows down a fraction, eyebrows knitted. “I don’t know how comfortable…” He lets the sentence die out, but it doesn’t sound like he wants to say a complete no.

“Let me try. Yeah? That’s why we’re here, isn’t it? Experimenting?”

“You’re such a talker,” Derek says and rolls his eyes and he picks up the pace to something semi-fast.

“You like it.”

“Do not.”

“Do too,” Stiles says with a grin and then he kisses his chest. “Okay, so, how about this: you keep doing your thing—very nice by the way—until we both come, then we chill and I tongue fuck your mouth until we’re on board to go again and _then_ I’ll fuck you in a position you can only enjoy it from?”

Derek clenches his ass around Stiles’ dick and Stiles twists his legs, gasps, and presses his nails into Derek’s waist. Derek, the motherfucker, keeps doing it when he continues to bob up and down. “How about,” he says when Stiles bites his own lips and wheezes because everything feels too much, “you shut up when I’m fucking you?”

“Mhm,” Stiles manages before Derek relaxes down and lets Stiles breathe. He looks too smug for Stiles liking when Stiles looks up at him, but then he starts rolling his hips forward when he pulls up slightly and rolls them back as he presses down hard. It works terrific for the both of them. Stiles moves one of his hands to wrap it around Derek’s bobbing cock. Derek moans appreciatively and he grinds down on Stiles before just rocking himself back and forward as Stiles jerks him off. When he’s close, he throws his head back, exposing his throat and Stiles can all but lean forward to suck at it while jerking his hand increasingly faster and he cups Derek’s balls with his free hand. Derek’s moan goes high pitched, his body shaking and he comes all over Stiles’ stomach. Stiles pecks his neck, arms numb, and he realizes that he, for the first time, didn’t come just because Derek did so. Derek lulls his head towards Stiles, a sort-of-smile on his lips and he crashes his forehead into Stiles’ before he starts moving again.

Derek knows how to do this just to make his partner feel good, too. He whines like it is all too much for him, but he doesn’t stop and it all makes Stiles go crazy. He catches Derek’s sounds with his mouth and holds onto him as he fucks down on Stiles again and again and Stiles cries out when it’s impossibly good. He moves his hips into Derek with every spurt of his orgasm, and Derek clenches and unclenches his ass at the same time as if he wants all of Stiles’ cum to stay inside him. None of it does, because Stiles obviously wears a condom, but Stiles entertains the idea in his head to fuck Derek raw and push his cum deep up inside him and it’s enough to wring out some last strokes of perfection. Derek sinks down one final time, Stiles already going soft, but they stay fitted for a while.

“You’re good at that.”

“Ha ha.”

“What? You are.”

“Whatever.” Derek gets off him and Stiles feels like he’s missing something.

Putting his hands behind his head, Stiles watches Derek as he stands up. “So, are you in for a second round?”

Derek turns to him. “ _Now_?”

“Dude, even I have a refractory period, okay?”

Derek thinks it over for a second. “So when?”

“I dunno.” Stiles shrugs and pokes a little in Derek’s cum drying at his stomach. “Do you mind me staying the night? Then we can get to it whenever.” He has Roscoe parked down on the street, so he could technically drive home any time, but he doesn’t mention that.

Derek blinks down at him a couple times. “Fine,” he says.

Stiles smirks back and Derek waves like he’s annoying. “Can we order in?” Stiles asks. “I’m starving.”

“Sure.”

They both clean up, and Derek calls for pizza. Derek only throws on a pair of sweats when there's a knock on the door from the delivery boy, and Stiles just doesn't care to put any clothes on at all. He’s grown comfortable with their combined nakedness. Derek doesn’t seem to mind and he drops his pants again when he puts the pizza down on the bed in front of Stiles. Stiles, who lies on his stomach, leaning on his arms, reaches forward and quickly snaps the box open.

“Fuck, _yes._ ” He snatches a piece as Derek sits down. “You ever top?” Stiles asks, mouth full of cheesy goodness.

It takes Derek a second before he answers, “Usually.”

Stiles does a double take and stares at him, pizza slice in hand forgotten. “What? But you’ve never once done that with me? You don’t think I’m fuckable?”

“Obviously, you’re fuckable,” Derek says and waves around to indicate that this is like the like sixth time they’re falling in bed together. He digs into the pizza and looks somehow innocently at Stiles.

“So why?” For once, Stiles doesn’t nag an answer. Maybe that’s why Derek chooses to be honest. He looks away, sighing.

“I used to bottom a lot when I was younger. Smaller. Looked more like—”he throws Stiles a glance”—well, more like you. Then I started working out, grew out of my baby face, grew facial hair. I _look_ like a stereotypical top so...” He trails off and Stiles shifts slightly to be able to sit up. Derek remains quiet. Stiles shoots a hand forward and weaves his fingers through Derek’s fringe. Derek looks at him, but Stiles keeps his attention on his hair instead, taking some tension away. Derek shrugs. “I guess I like bottoming more,” he says like that’s something dirty.

Stiles is pretty sure Derek _loves_ to bottom but he doesn’t say that. “So, what about me?”

Derek shrugs again. “You seemed like you had no idea about anything.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m just saying, that it’s easier to get fucked by someone who is unsure than it is to fuck them. At least in my experience. And with my physic,” he adds and smirks a little.

“You know,” Stiles says, “that thing you did that first night, it was extremely show-offish.”

“Got you wide-eyed.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “You usually fuck guys like that?”

“No. I usually fuck them in my car.”

Stiles dramatically throws the rest of his slice down into the box again. “Derek Hale, you _liar_!”

Derek actually laughs. He eats a whole slice of pizza before he continues. “I hadn’t bottomed in years before I hooked up with you. I gambled you’d be interested. You didn’t grind your ass on my dick on the dancefloor, which otherwise is usually a good tell to see if someone wants to get dicked down. ”

“Huh.”

They keep eating in a slightly stilted silence. Stiles wonders what Derek’s deal actually is. He likes bottoming, he did it before looking like Superman, and then at some point, he just stopped? Surely, you can find tops more experienced than Stiles who’d be down to fuck Derek just the way he looks now.

“What about you?”

Stiles looks up. “What about me?”

“The boyfriend? And everything?”

“Oh. Right. Well, I don’t have a boyfriend anymore. See, when you tell him you fucked someone else and he responds with ‘yeah, me too’ then it’s just as well to go back to being just friends. And as you may have noticed, we weren’t exactly the most adventurous couple.”

“Can’t believe you dated someone for that long without doing, like, anything.”

“I think we were just misplacing lust and love with convenience and security. I mean, he’s my best friend and I love him, but we’re also queer, so like, isn’t the optimal thing to date your best friend? When it comes to us, the answer is clearly no.”

“You’re still hanging out then?”

“We live together.”

“You live with your ex-boyfriend?”

“Yes, but I prefer to say that I live with my best friend. Makes more sense and feels more like the truth.”

“That’s weird.”

“You can be weird!”

Derek shrugs. Again. Stiles thinks something’s still missing in the conversation, but he doesn't push it because he’s not sure what it is.

~~

Once they have eaten, Stiles is too full to fuck. Derek only agrees when Stiles complains, and instead, he offers some Netflix. Stiles, silently proud of himself for finally indulging in the ever talked about “Netflix and chill”, thinks it’s a great idea. Derek even lets Stiles choose what to watch. Not that he exactly cares.

“Do you want to cuddle?” Stiles has flopped himself down on his back comfortably, half lying, half sitting against the wall with some pillows for support and watches Derek by the tv.

“Uhm…”

“No need,” Stiles says when Derek throws him a glance, “just, that I do have two years worth of experience with naked cuddles.” Stiles wiggles his eyebrows and Derek, coming back to bed after fetching the remote, stops beside the bed and looks down at Stiles. Only every once in a while flicking his gaze down to Derek’s dick, Stiles looks back. He extends an arm and motions for Derek to come lie down on his chest.

“Okay.”

Derek is, at first, an awkward cuddler. He lies down just next to Stiles and looks about as lost about what to do then as Stiles had felt when he was gonna finger Derek the first time. But this, Stiles knows.

“Get over here, big guy, come closer.” Derek scowls but scoots forward. Stiles makes him throw a leg over Stiles’ while adjusting his arm so that he can force Derek even further forward. He has his head too high, but instead of pushing him around, Stiles scoots up a bit and places Derek’s head on his shoulder.

“Where do I even keep my arms?”

“Wherever it’s comfortable. Like here—”he takes Derek’s exposed hand and drapes his arm over his stomach, hand around his waist”—and the other one could go around my lower back.” Derek fumbles and pushes his arm underneath Stiles and he looks up at Stiles once he has, as if to ask if that’s good.

“Feel okay?” Stiles asks.

“Sure.”

Stiles gives him a look. “You really sure?”

“Yeah.” Derek looks away, adjusting his cheek against Stiles’ shoulder and Stiles fits his arm around Derek’s waist and turns on Netflix, a random movie looking not too awful, before disregarding the remote. He drags his hand up and down Derek’s upper arm. Derek stays quiet and rather still. Stiles decides to let him brood, if that’s what he’s doing, and watches the movie as he keeps moving his fingers over Derek’s skin. He tests things here too, does it light, hard, fingertips, palm, nails, and it’s not until he starts scratching Derek’s back that he gets any type of reaction. There’s a quiet murmur and Derek arches into him, ever so slightly.

Stiles looks down at him. “You like that?” he asks and keeps doing it. He doesn’t get a verbal answer, but he can see Derek closing his eyes and he starts absently to fiddle with his fingers at Stiles’ waist so Stiles takes it as a yes. He gives Derek a thorough back scratch, surely striping his back with red marks and Derek relaxes in his arms. Stiles hadn’t realized just how tense he was until Derek’s muscles are soft in his hands.

Because Stiles is Stiles, he has to test boundaries. At first, he tries to tickle him. Derek folds his eyebrows and hums disapprovingly before Stiles moves his hand from his side to even further closer to his stomach, when Derek’s eyes fly open and Stiles finds his own wrist secured in Derek's hand. He growls at Stiles, looking as close to feral as a human man can.

“Got it,” Stiles says and smiles. “No tickles.”

Derek huffs and puts his head back down on Stiles' shoulder, dragging himself further closer before settling down. Stiles thinks he’s an excellent teacher. He scratches Derek’s back for another minute before he tries something new. This time, he’s looking for pleasure rather than fun. He sets his nails down rather harshly and drags, watches as Derek’s mouth opens and he presses himself to Stiles. It was just the response Stiles had figured he’d get and he smirks to himself. He only does it the one time and Derek makes an annoyed sound before scowling at Stiles again.

“What?” Stiles asks, totally innocently.

Derek doesn’t have to say anything, and yet his eyebrows have an entire monolog.

“Okay, okay,” Stiles says and drags his nails down Derek’s back, making Derek’s features smoothen. “Better?” Derek groans and pushes up to kiss him. He does so by putting his hand on Stiles’ stomach, though, which is just not a good thing. Stiles makes a sound like he's gonna puke and Derek pulls back.

“Not the stomach, dude,” Stiles cries and Derek stares at him like he’s stupid. “What?” he asks. “I _just_ ate.”

Derek snorts and then he forces Stiles’ head down instead so they can kiss. Stiles mutters in between kisses, telling Derek he’ll be sad if Stiles pukes in his bed and that Stiles will be too because he’d actually planned on sleeping there later.

“Shut up,” Derek says.

“Oh, wouldn’t you just love that?”

“Mhm.”

“Hate to break it to you, darling Derek, but that isn’t happening anytime soon.” Derek tries to stare him quiet, but Stiles just laughs at him. Then, he tries to tickle Stiles quiet, and that’s just unfair and insufficient. Stiles squeaks and tries to get away but the newly discovered cuddle-monster Derek has him trapped in arms and legs. He laughs at Stiles’ feeble attempts to crawl away and the slaps he puts on Derek to stop him.

“Okay,” Stiles pants, “I’ll shut up! I’ll shut up, just- Stop tickling me!” He finds himself in a fit of giggles and Derek smiles at him when he peeks at him, back twisted away from him at an uncomfortable angle. “Are you gonna be nice?”

“Who knows.” The smile, Stiles realizes, is a smirk. He pokes his tongue out, but pushes himself up and licks at Derek’s bottom lip. Derek puts a hand on the back of Stiles’ head and makes sure Stiles kisses him properly. He only digs his fingers into Stiles’ waist once, and he gives Stiles a “that really was the last time, come back here”-look that Stiles actually finds himself trusting. They both look back at the tv and finds that sometime during their wrestle, Stiles must’ve accidentally laid on the remote, because the movie is paused.

“Do you want to keep watching? Or are my cuddles sublime enough to keep you occupied?”

“I do actually like that movie.”

“Let’s finish it then.”

Derek, for some reason, looks like he wants to protest, but Stiles has already thrown the remote away after starting the movie again. Derek settles back down, and this time, he’s relaxed already, legs twirled with Stiles’, one arm underneath him, one splayed across his chest, his fingers dragging slowly over Stiles’ upper arm. Stiles plants a kiss atop his head and they watch the movie.

Once it’s over, they lie still for another couple minutes, just watching the black screen.

“It _was_ good,” Stiles agrees when he can’t take the silence.

Derek shuffles and bends his head back. “Yeah?”

Stiles meets his gaze and thinks that Derek looks comfortable. “Yeah.” He leans in and bumps their noses. Derek closes his eyes, and Stiles just drags the tip of his nose along Derek’s face for a little while. Derek doesn’t protest, so Stiles takes his time. He kisses Derek’s cheeks just above the beard line, his jaw just beneath it, the side of his eyebrow, the tip of his nose. Derek pulls a little at the corner of his mouth, like Stiles is being cute. Stiles likes it. He reaches down and pecks Derek’s lips and Derek opens his eyes again when Stiles pulls back. Derek has already opened his mouth to say something when he changes his mind.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Stiles squeezes his arm, vows to himself that he’s not going to fall in love with this man, and drags a hand into his hair, scratching at his scalp. This time when Derek moves up to kiss him, he doesn’t use Stiles’ stomach as leverage which makes the whole thing a lot easier. A lot more kissing, too. A whole lot of lips and teeth and tongue, and saliva exchange, and Stiles can’t get enough of it. He does, however, want to make do with his suggestion to fuck Derek with Derek just enjoying it, so when Derek reaches for Stiles’ prominent hard-on, Stiles just pats him away.

For some reason, it takes _time_ to get Derek to just lie down flat on his stomach. Stiles has to coax him into it, tell him repeatedly that he really just wants Derek to lie there as Stiles does his thing, explores Derek’s body.

“What about you?” Derek asks, and it’s probably the third time.

“I’ll be totally enjoying it,” Stiles assures him and finally Derek puts his head down and lets his limbs melt down into the mattress in an almost star-like position.

“There we go,” Stiles says, pleased. “And you know, you just gotta tell me to stop and I will. Yeah?”

“Okay.”

“Good. ‘Cause you also know I’m not exactly sure what I’m doing with anything.”

Derek laughs a little. “Okay, Stiles.”

Stiles bites his lip. He _really_ does like his name on Derek’s lips. With as much finesse that he can, Stiles slides himself on top of Derek. He doesn’t press, he keeps a knee placed in between Derek’s parted legs and one hand of either side if his body, but he let’s their bodies connect, his semi-hard cock drag along Derek’s hip, chest against his back, lips against his shoulder blades. Derek is tense again. It would probably take Stiles a lifetime to figure him out.

“I’m not gonna hurt you, Derek, I just want to make you feel nice.”

“I know.” He takes a breath and lets it out, relaxing under Stiles. This time, it’s much more noticeable that Derek forces himself to relax, rather than he _is_ relaxed. Stiles doesn’t particularly like it. It feels almost a little fake. So, he does everything to make Derek feel good for real. He knows that Derek likes the back scratches, so he balances himself on only one hand and scratches his back whilst kissing it. He goes slow, light. Derek’s muscles go harder than completely relaxed, but not as bad as before. Stiles massages him with one hand, goes from his waist up to his neck and pays extra attention up there when Derek bends his head, showing more of his neck for Stiles.

“Nice?”

“Mm.”

Stiles moves down Derek’s body, keeps kissing, keeps scratching and sits down between Derek’s legs to be able to use both hands. When he bends down this time, he lets his lips trail down Derek’s ass.

“Stiles…” It’s a warning. Stiles is not sure why.

“What?”

“What are you doing?”

“Kissing your body. Scratching it a little too.” He drags his nails over Derek’s lower back and kisses his other cheek. Derek huffs.

“I mean…”

“This?” Stiles nibs at Derek’s ass before kissing it again. Derek flinches a little.

“Yes, _that._ ” He tries to look over his own shoulder, but Stiles bounces up onto his knees and presses a hand to the back of Derek’s head.

“Stay down,” he says, and it's mostly a joke and the hand is more for show, but Derek literally whines. Not like he’s annoyed or thinks Stiles is stupid, but as if having his head being pushed down into the mattress makes him feel good. _Really_ good. Stiles takes it away and Derek is breathing harder than a second ago. Stiles sits back. He wonders if maybe he should say something. Instead, he puts a hand on Derek’s lower back and shuffles to be able to reach down to sprinkle pecks all over his ass. He presses a little with his hand, and Derek gasps, barely audible. With as much ease and calm he can muster, Stiles says, “Be still, Derek.”

Underneath his fingers, Derek shudders, but he is not tense. He doesn't move. Stiles reaches down again and this time, he licks a stripe on the inside of Derek’s ass cheek. His skin is warm and there’s the faintest taste of lube from before. The action makes Derek whine again. Stiles keeps going. He licks the other side in the same manner before running his tongue down the middle, taking his time to make sure Derek’s aware of what he’s doing and has time to stop him. Derek doesn't stop him. Stiles licks over Derek’s hole and Derek moans. It’s muffled, low, and Stiles loves it. He licks his lips and runs his tongue down again, and this time he doesn’t pull away. He tongues at Derek’s rim, dragging more and more sounds from Derek’s lips. Stiles dips his tongue inside him, and Derek arches. He falls back down when Stiles presses at him, and Stiles giggles a little.

“I love this,” Stiles says and Derek doesn’t seem to be able to form words. Stiles dips back down and wiggles his tongue inside. It’s hot and slick with Stiles’ spit. Stiles wouldn’t have thought that he’d ever want to lick some guy’s ass, even less _like_ doing it, but here he is.

He spends copious amounts of time just licking Derek’s hole. Since he hasn’t been able to finger him the way he clearly likes, Stiles makes sure to do this as much as he possibly can because Derek’s sounds are even more labored and high as he does. He wonders if maybe Derek could come just by this and the thought makes him feel light headed.

As he slips a finger inside him, lubed up and just after he has dragged his tongue away, Derek sobs. Stiles holds up, because he isn’t sure if that was a good or a bad sob.

“Derek?”

Derek’s voice is thin when he answers. “Y-yes?”

“You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want me to fuck you?”

The answer takes a short while. Stiles waits. Derek moves just a fraction. “Like this?”

“Or somehow else, but yes, I was thinking like this.”

“Okay.”

“Do you want me to, yes or no?”

Derek swallows. “Yes,” he says. Stiles bends his finger and Derek moans again.

“Okay, Derek, I’ll make you feel all good.” He can see Derek nod and Stiles finds it a promise easy to keep.

~~

Derek does _not_ want to talk about it. Not when Stiles has just fucked him, not when they’re curled up to sleep, not when Stiles texts him later that week, and definitely not when Stiles comes over the next time.

The last time he tries, Derek quite literally starts sucking Stiles’ cock to get out of the conversation and it’s not exactly like Stiles _minds_ that, so he lets it rest.

He does, however, want to try to suck _Derek’s_ dick. Derek rolls his eyes at him but Stiles reminds him that Derek had told him that he’ll teach Stiles whatever he wants, and giving good head seems like a good next step. “And,” Stiles says and pokes a finger at Derek’s naked chest, “I want to be able to make you feel _at least_ as good as you can make me.”

He slides into Derek’s lap as he sits with his back against the wall in the bed, the both of them already naked and Derek’s cock peeking with interests after getting Stiles off.

“C’mon, Der, give me some pointers.” Stiles puts his arms around Derek’s neck and moves his hips forward to let Derek’s dick find the tiniest bit of fraction against Stiles’ inner thigh.

“Keep it wet. Avoid teeth-”

Stiles waves a hand in his face. “Yeah, excuse me, how _exactly_ does one do that?”

“I’m pretty sure you’ll notice when you do it.” Derek shakes his head and keeps listing things. “Don’t do it like a handjob and think that speed will make it better because it’ll probably just make the dick oversensitive; know that if you take it too deep you might-”

“Oh, I know my gag-reflex is pretty good. Did you ever suck on ice-lollies to test out yours?”

“...No,” he says like Stiles is incredibly weird for asking. Then, Stiles presumes, Derek must think he’s really strange for having actually done it.

“Oh.” Stiles frowns. “Maybe that isn’t a universal test to see if you can deepthroat a guy.”

“They’re made of _ice_ ,” Derek says like Stiles doesn’t _know_ that.

“Yeah, and they're kind of dick-sized when you’ve just opened one,” Stiles defends his early teen choices. “Anyway… Keep it wet, keep teeth away, speed isn’t everything, deepthroating can make you gag. What else?”

Derek shrugs. “Everyone likes different things, you just have to figure out and ask whoever you’re with what they’re into.”

“Okay,” Stiles says and rolls his hips again, “what do you like?”

Derek looks at him like he hadn’t thought about the fact that Stiles is there with him, wanting to suck _his_ dick. “Uh…”

“Should I just give it a go and you’ll tell me if it’s okay or kinda awesome?”

“Fine,” Derek says.

Stiles backs away. “Do you want to sit like this?”

Derek clears his throat. “I think it’ll be easier, for you, if I lie down.” Stiles nods and Derek shuffles down. He stacks some pillows so he doesn’t lie exactly plain, but has some support so that when he looks down, he’ll easily see what Stiles is doing. It makes Stiles want to suck his cock even more.

He’s not even sure how to sit. He tries it one way, with his legs crossed, gets a cramp immediately and decides that’s not a good idea. He tries sitting on his heels and then he can’t reach properly, at least not comfortably so. In the end, he lies down on his stomach and props himself up in his elbows. The position feels the most comfortable and Derek asks if he’s all ready soon and so Stiles doesn’t want to drag it out any longer; he’d just like to suck cock now, thank you very much.

Derek does watch him. Stiles knows because the first thing he does as he licks up Derek’s length is to look back at him. It makes Derek closes his eyes, so Stiles does so too. If Derek wants to watch him, that feels more important than Stiles watching Derek. He’s warm and soft, and the skin doesn’t really have much of a taste, so Stiles keeps going, placing some wet pecks up the shaft before going back into licking it upwards. Soon enough, the tip of his tongue finds foreskin and pre-cum and then the verdict is quite different. It’s salty, sticky. He’d expected it to be quiet bad, but he finds he doesn’t mind it. He swirls his tongue into it heartily, and carefully plops the head of Derek’s cock into his mouth. As Derek had predicted, the act of keeping his teeth out of the way is fairly easy, almost a natural response. Stiles probably sucked off too many ice-lollies when he was fourteen. Derek makes a tiny sound when Stiles pulls off his cock with a quiet plop.

“How’s that?”

Derek, eyes closed and spreading his legs further, flails a hand at Stiles. “Pull down the...”

“Oh, right.” Stiles grabs his cock and does as told; pulls the skin down until Derek’s cockhead is fully exposed, deep red and his slit already covered in a bead of more pre-cum. Stiles licks it all up, Derek sucking in a breath, and licks all around the head, making it dripping. He sucks down on it again and Derek gasps out a “yes”.

Stiles plays around. Licking, sucking, kissing, and taking him further and further down. It’s just as satisfying as he’d thought it would be, especially when he can drag some really nice sound from Derek’s lips. And he’s doing fine, he thinks. Overestimating his own ability, Stiles takes Derek’s cock way deep into his mouth, hitting the back of his throat, and—obviously—he chokes. He pulls off quickly and coughs, eyes watering. “Shit.”

Derek smirks down at him. “No use to get cocky.”

“Oh, shut up.” Stiles bites the inside of his thigh and that does shut him up. “Who’s laughing now?” He decides that he can save deepthroating for another day and focuses on trying to get Derek to make sounds for him instead.

Swirling his tongue just underneath his head just before sucking down on him seems to be the number one thing to do, so Stiles sticks with it. After a minute or two, Derek lifts his head slightly. “You could…” and he reaches down to close his own hand over Stiles’ around his shaft. He nods for Stiles to continue and when Stiles sucks down on the head of Derek’s cock again, Derek moves their hands in the same rhythm. “If you… press your... upper lip… to your… index finger…” He trails off and takes his hand away as Stiles does so, bobbing his head and following up and down with his hand, like a handy.

Stiles gives it his best go, finding it way harder than expected. Despite being able to make Derek all flushed, moaning, and emitting small gasp, it’s nowhere near getting him off. When his jaw completely gives up, Stiles gets on top of Derek, miffed and grumbling, and he wraps his hand back around Derek’s spit dripping cock. Stiles presses him down and gives him the most elaborate and precise handjob in the history of handjobs. Derek practically goes out numb after coming in Stiles’ hand and Stiles vows to him that some other time, when Stiles has gotten more practice in, he’ll have Derek passing out because his mouth is so perfect. Derek lamely attempts to slap Stiles for being stupid, but it mostly turns out a loose pet and Stiles biting his hand instead.

All in all, Stiles feels he did pretty good anyway.

~~

When Stiles doesn’t argue positions or being taught something, Derek has them fucking doggy-style. It’s not like Stiles doesn’t like it; he really does, it feels amazing, but he thinks that there are many gorgeous things he’s missing out on when he can’t press himself to Derek’s body, when he can’t touch his chest or face or dig his fingers into his hair, when he can’t kiss him.

So, he asks to do the one thing doggy-style seems to be made for doing. “Can I spank you?”

Derek lets out a breath Stiles doesn’t know how to interpret. “Fine,” he replies, dropping his head between his shoulders, almost looking embarrassed.

Stiles wonders if he’s being really childish again, but Derek’s ass just looks so inviting that he doesn’t care. And Derek did give him permission. He keeps one hand on Derek’s thigh, fucking in and out of him slowly and steadily before putting his other hand on Derek’s ass cheek. He pats it a few times, just to get a feel of it and Derek snorts. Stiles manages to slap him in time so that the snort ends in a drawn-out “oh”. Derek’s face hits the mattress, and it’s an interesting sight; it’s almost like he’s surrendering. This time, when Stiles asks if he can do it again, he gets an airy “yes” in response and when he slaps him this time, Derek whines into the sheets.

“You quite like that, huh?” Stiles asks, and he doesn’t make it sound as mocking as maybe he would have normally because Derek’s back is flushed angrily red and Stiles doesn’t know if it’s because he’s embarrassed or just really turned on. Stiles isn’t going to risk never getting to do this again because Derek thinks he’s being mocked.

“Yes,” Derek says roughly.

Stiles pushes into him as he says, “You _want_ me to do it again?”

It takes a long time, a minute, two, before Derek’s shaky voice comes out in a quiet, “Yes…”

Instead of spanking him again, Stiles runs his hand over Derek’s spine, admiring how good he looks like this: on his knees, face down, ass up, hands clutching the sheets like he would fall off if he didn’t. Emboldened by Derek’s reactions, Stiles gambles and asks, “Is it because you’ve been naughty, Derek? Do you need to be punished?”

Derek tenses up; his whole body goes rigid and still, his breath coming out sharp and Stiles wants to kick himself for taking it too far. He also has to bite the inside of his cheek not to come on the spot because Derek clenching around his cock is blinding. “Stiles, I-”

“All good, Derek,” Stiles says through his teeth, his eyes closed. “It’s all good. I’m sorry.” It’s strange to reassure Derek, he has never before felt like a man that has needed any coddling but now, when Stiles is slowly unfolding parts of Derek that Stiles isn’t even sure Derek has explored himself before, it is easy to see that Derek’s a man who doesn’t allow himself the things that he wants. “Do you want to stop?”

Derek just breathes.

“Derek? Hey, man, you gotta talk to me. Do you want me to pull out?”

Finally, Derek nods.

“Okay, no problem.” Stiles strokes Derek’s thighs a couple times before he slowly pulls out. Derek moves away from him quickly, rolling out of bed and disappearing into the bathroom. Stiles sits down on his heels, looking after him. He doesn’t really know what to do. Scratching his head and looking around, Stiles pulls the condom off and he goes to throw it in the kitchen trash.

Derek stays away for quite a while. Stiles wonders if he’s panicking in there, knowing from experience that a locked bathroom door will keep practically anyone away for longer than any normal panic attack lasts.

He’s guilt-ridden and feels awful. He hadn’t meant to do anything wrong, he’d just gotten caught up and saying something like that had felt adventurous and sexy. Now, he just wishes he could’ve kept his mouth shut for once.

Without knowing how long Derek will take, and not wanting to leave without _at least_ seeing that he’s fine, Stiles puts on his underwear again and his hoodie and he sits down at the edge of the bed. He picks up his phone, but his concentration fails him and he just keeps throwing glances at the bathroom door. He would like to talk to Scott, but what would he say? “This guy I’m fucking panicked because I tried to talk dirty to him, what do I do?” Stiles lets messenger be. He flips his phone against his knee time and time again, before finally, Derek emerges.

He looks fine. Stiles knows, also from experience, that looks means nothing. He’s got underwear on again, but nothing else and he walks over to the bed.

“Hey,” Stiles says, and Derek only acknowledges that he’s there with a leveled look. He picks up a shirt, realizes halfway through putting it on that it’s Stiles’ t-shirt, and he throws it towards him before looking for his own. “Do you want me to leave?” Stiles asks. “Or give you some cuddles? Or just sit here with you? I will do whatever you want.”

“I don’t _want_ anything,” Derek bites.

“Okay. That’s fine.” Stiles picks up his shirt from the bed and folds it in his lap before putting it down on the floor. “Do you need anything?” Stiles learned many years ago that language is powerful and clearly the word “want” hits all the wrong buttons in Derek.

Derek shakes his head and pulls his newly found henley over his head. “Just be quiet, Stiles.”

“Okay.” And Stiles is quiet.

He doesn’t remember the last time he was in the presences of another person without talking for this long, but because Derek needs it, Stiles finds that he can do it with ease. Derek sits down, on the other side of the bed, without putting pants on. His eyebrows are drawn tight, his jaw set and he’s hunched in over himself. Stiles thinks he looks resigned, and—despite all the eyebrows—kind of sad. Stiles hurts inside because he made this happen.

He is pretty sure they stay like that for almost an hour. Then, Derek turns towards him, not looking up, and he asks, “Do you want to fuck me again?”

Stiles is not even sure if he means now or _ever_. “I rather we talk about this.”

Derek mutters, “I don’t.”

Stiles scoots forward a little, turning fully to him and gets his bare feet up on the bed. “Can I just say that I’m sorry? I didn’t mean to make you feel bad and I shouldn’t have presumed you’d be into stuff like that. I should’ve asked and I’ll do so in the future.”

Derek’s quiet for too long, but when he opens his mouth, Stiles is surprised over what comes out. “You're not… mad?”

“Mad? No, why would I be mad?”

Derek shrugs.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Derek. I said something that triggered you and that’s my fault, even if I didn’t know what would happen. It’s still my fault.”

“It’s okay.”

“Is it?”

Derek looks at him finally, and he must find something in Stiles’ gaze because he looks away again and admits, “No.”

“Should I leave?” Stiles asks again.

“No,” Derek says and without looking up, he reaches over and grabs a light hold of Stiles’ hand. “Stay.”

With his heart swelling, Stiles squeezes his hand. “Okay. I’ll stay.”

~~

They’re lying on Derek’s bed again, on their backs and catching their breaths. Stiles thinks either or the both of them should roll over and light a cigarette, just for the aesthetics of it. Unfortunately—or, _thankfully,_ really—neither of them smoke.

The roof to Derek’s loft is high. Stiles hasn’t really noticed that before, but then again, he always has other things on his mind when he’s here. He does today too, but after Derek’s freak out last week, Stiles wasn’t even sure Derek would want to fuck with him again.

Stiles had stayed with Derek for the night. They’d watched a couple movies and fallen asleep with their hands intertwined, Stiles with his lips pressed against the bridge of Derek’s hand. Come morning, Stiles had had to go to class and he’d left with just a quick goodbye kiss. They hadn’t talked more about it.

Which meant that a few days later when Derek—more than a little surprising to Stiles—had invited Stiles over, Stiles had been jumpy and Derek had been cautious, before they’d started kissing again. Then things had progressed back into a somewhat normal encounter between them. Stiles might’ve been a bit less talkative, he’d not done any of his usual explorations, and he avoided the word “want” as if it was Voldemort, but other than that, a pretty standard-for-them hook-up.

But right now, staring at the ceiling, Stiles has exactly one thought in his mind. “Do you have toys?”

“ _No_.” It comes out too fast, like Derek’s appalled by the idea.

Stiles turns his head to look at him. “No? Really?”

“Yes, really. Why would I have toys?”

Stiles shrugs and looks up the roof again. “Seems like a good idea.” Not just because he himself finds it so, but because Derek had told him that he likes to bottom but usually topped, so toys would give him comfortable and private bottom session. Stiles guesses not, then. “I think I’mma buy some.”

Derek sits up and throws his legs over the edge of the bed. He looks back at Stiles, unimpressed. “I’m not using toys with you.”

“Who said anything about _us_ using them?” Stiles asks with a smug smile.

“I-” Derek flushes a dark shade of pink.

“And why not?” Stiles adds. “Don’t you think it’s even the tiniest bit intriguing?”

Derek only grumbles his answer. He gets up and goes to wipe himself off, and Stiles makes up his mind to order some stuff when he gets home before he gets up and cleans himself.

Derek’s already in bed again when Stiles comes back in. “How about choking?” Stiles asks after pondering it.

“What.”

“You into that?”

“I… I know how to do it,” Derek provides.

“But you don’t like it?”

Derek just shrugs. “I can show you.” He motions for Stiles to come lie down next to him and Stiles is not slow to comply. Derek moves around a bit so Stiles is laying on his side, facing Derek, and Derek’s on his back next to him.

“It’s more about stopping the flow of blood to the head, rather than oxygen through the windpipe,” Derek says matter-of-factly. He takes one of Stiles' hands and puts it over his throat and indicates with his own fingers. “Feel my pulse.” Stiles feels his pulse alright. It’s raging, and Stiles isn’t exactly sure why. He only hums confirmation that he has found it. Derek swallows and Stiles can feel that too. “You use your thumb and index, and depending on how you want to do it, your palm and the rest of your fingers, like so.” He takes Stiles’ hand away and leans his head back a little to grab his own throat to show him. He turns his head towards Stiles and taps his neck with his index to show where he’s holding. Stiles looks on, body feeling awfully heavy and he flickers his gaze up to Derek’s eyes. They’re closed, as if he’s ashamed.

“Do it on me,” Stiles says. Derek’s eyes fling open and they stare each other down.

“Okay.”

Stiles shuffles onto his back as Derek rolls up on his side and places one of his giant hands on Stiles. He feels around Stiles’ jugular for a second before settling his fingers. He aligns his thumb and bent forefinger to Stiles' throat, his palm lightly against his skin and the rest of his fingers around the back of his neck. Stiles doesn’t notice when, but he has his eyes closed, and then Derek puts some pressure. Technically, Stiles can breathe fairly normally. But the setting makes it come out short and quick. Derek doesn’t hold for long before he eases the grip, not letting go completely in one go but takes a second or two. Stiles hadn't realized how much his ears got affected but sound rushes back to him; a water pipe in the wall, the shuffling sheets, a car outside. Everything feels a little more clear when he opens his eyes and Derek looks at him, browns and greens of his eyes seemingly more vibrant than usual. However, it didn’t make him hard. He thought maybe it would, or at least stir his dick, but nothing.

“Yes?” Derek asks.

“Yeah, got it,” Stiles says roughly and clears his throat. He hesitates for a second before asking, ”Can I try it?”

Derek licks his lips and nods. They move around again so their back to their original position, Derek keeping one hand on Stiles’ forearm. Stiles takes his time finding Derek’s pulse, mapping out his throat with his fingers. Derek has his eyes closed again.

“Here?” Stiles asks when he feels comfortable and Derek just shoots his chin up a little as confirmation. Stiles presses. Just enough for his fingers to find resistance, Derek’s pulse to be even more pronounced. He looks on as Derek’s mouth falls open and he starts breathing more quickly, and Stiles digs his fingers in just a little bit harder. Derek whimpers. At first, it's just a small one and then it’s quiet again—save his breathing—for another couple seconds. Then he starts doing it at every exhale. Tiny whimpers, high in his throat, and he doesn't even sound like he’s trying to hold them back. This stirs Stiles’ cock fully awake and when he lets go of Derek’s throat, after another couple seconds, he’s hard enough that he’d be able to roll on a condom and fuck him right then.

Derek takes a shaky breath and then he keeps breathing deep and slow. He opens his eyes and stares at the ceiling. Stiles is scared he fucked up again. Derek surprises Stiles by saying, “I met a girl and fell in love.” His voice thick and he swallows before he continues. “And she picked me apart. Mapped out what I liked and what I didn’t.” He turns his head to look at Stiles and Stiles’ stomach drops out, because silently in the air hangs the words _just like you’re doing._ And Stiles doesn’t know the rest of the story yet, but he’s sure that it won’t end on a happy ever after. He retrieves his hand and Derek continues. “She found ways to please me, or the both of us at the same time, when she realized that I had slept with guys and been the one who received. I let her make me feel good in every single way she could possibly think of, every way she could find that I liked. I didn’t stop her. Not once. ‘Do you want it, Derek?’ she’d ask and she didn’t have to force me to say yes because I _did_ want it.

“But every time I said so: yes, I wanted something she would give me, she’d call me things. A slut, a whore. She’d say I was a pussy for wanting it like a girl. She’d sit with three fingers up my ass and two down my throat ask how I wasn’t dying of shame for wanting such a treatment. She’d spank me, slap my face, hold me down, and sit on my chest as she fucked my throat with a dildo, and all at the same time that it made me feel as good as it possibly could, she’d bring me right back down to hell because she constantly reminded me that I was filthy and dirty and not _supposed_ to want it that way. That, somehow, giving me what I wanted was a punishment in itself for wanting it in the first place.

“I haven’t done any of these things since I stopped seeing her. I’ve fucked around a lot, topped in every single sexual encounter I have had since I was eighteen years old and doing all of these things with you just brings out so many bad memories I have had buried deep down for years.”

“Shit,” Stiles says.

“Yeah. It’s total shit.”

~~

Once Derek has said it, he seems a lot calmer. He shifts beside Stiles, turning onto his side, facing him, and even shuffles closer like he wants one of Stiles’ famous cuddles. At first, Stiles only dares to rake his fingers through Derek’s hair. With his eyes closed, Derek leans into the touch, though, so Stiles thinks it might be safe to scoot them together.

He takes his time, adjusting and fingering at Derek’s side, until they lie pressed together, limbs tangled, Derek’s nose to the hollow between Stiles’ collar bones, hands feeling their way over exposed skin. The loft is chill but wrapped up together it’s warm and cozy. Still, Stiles feels his heart in his throat, beating fast and hard. With everything that has been going on between the two of them during the last couple months they’ve fucked, Stiles can count out a scary amount of times when Derek has behaved strangely, answered questions not completely right, and all of it is easily related back to what Derek’s just told him. When Derek has turned the question about _want_ back to Stiles and completely ignored to answer what _he_ has wanted. When Derek has agreed to do things because Stiles has wanted to do them, and maybe Derek hasn’t even wanted them then. When Derek has forced himself not to show that he’s tense. When Derek has denied himself pleasure because Stiles has caught on that Derek likes something a bit more than just a general turn-on. It all makes Stiles feel like he's probably the worst at sex ever because he has clearly disregarded a lot of signs, even as he has thought he’s been vocal and very verbal with consent and where they stand.

Stiles stares out the window on the other side of the room as the sky darkens and he doesn’t know how to say it. How to ask Derek what they should do. If he should do anything. What Derek wants without asking what he wants. He swallows and scratches Derek’s back instead. It wasn’t like he’d planned to get into something more frequently recurring with Derek either. Even with their agreement, he’d just seen it as something fun. A way to catch up with everything he wanted to try and learn. Now, he realizes that he’s grown to care about Derek and to know how hurt he has been and how, as a result, _Stiles_ must have hurt him too, is the worst feeling he has felt in a long time.

“Should we stop?” he asks finally.

Derek stirs, like maybe he was falling asleep. “Stop what?”

“This whole—”he throws a hand out“—sexploration.”

Derek leans his head back as if to make sure Stiles can see his judgemental look. “‘Sexploration’? Really, Stiles?”

“It’s basically what it is!” Derek shakes his head and hides back down on Stiles’ chest. Stiles bites his own lip. Goes over several times exactly what he wants to say before he says it aloud. “You said you’d teach me stuff, but you don’t have to if it makes you feel like shit.”

Derek’s quiet. It doesn’t ease Stiles’ nerves, but he knows that he has to wait him out.

“It doesn’t… make me feel like shit,” Derek replies. “I- I mean- You-” He cuts himself off completely and mutters to himself like he’s annoyed he can’t just _talk_. He grabs Stiles arm in a firm grip, as if to steady himself. “ _This,”_ he settles on, “is usually good. Because it’s a lot about what _you_ want and that’s… easier. I can just pretend I don’t want it just as much.”

“But you _do_ want it.” It’s not the smartest sentence Stiles has ever spoken, Stiles admits. Derek’s grip on him turns tighter, almost enough so that Stiles wants to ask him to release him because it’ll surely bruise, but instead he continues. “And that’s okay, Derek. You can want and like and _have_ whatever the fuck in the world.” Derek just breathes against his chest. Stiles wants to look him in the face, but he just grabs a little at Derek’s shoulder, then anxiously strokes his palm up and down his back. “And I’ll give anything to you, if that’s what you want. Making you feel good and giving you whatever you want, it feels good to me.” He swallows. Wonders if any other person has ever said anything similar to a person they only fuck with. Wonders of Derek thinks Stiles is clingy. Or weird. Or if Derek will have him leave, and is trying to find a polite way to tell Stiles to fuckedy fuck off. When Derek doesn’t throw him out or say anything at all for that matter, Stiles thinks maybe that means he’s still waiting for Stiles to continue, and he _does_ have a third part of his speech, so he musters up the balls to recite it. “But if we do this, I need you to be honest. Not just with me, but with yourself. I need you to tell me when I’m out of bounds. I need you to tell me if you’re uncomfortable, and I need you to allow yourself to be uncomfortable. And I really, really, do want to explore all of this, all of _you,_ with you. If you’re… ready for that.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean why?”

“Why do you want to do all that?”

“Because I like this. What we’re doing. And if it can be even better for you, it’ll be even better for me. I- I feel comfortable with you. Think you feel pretty comfortable with me, too, because otherwise, you wouldn’t have told me all that. But I just keep thinking about all the times you must’ve been feeling… bad just because I’ve said or done something and you didn’t tell me. I just want you to feel good, Derek. Every goddamn time I touch you. I just want to. I can't explain it better than that.”

Derek bends his head back again. Stiles looks down. Somehow, Derek’s face is scolded into a neutral expression. Stiles is pretty sure he himself looks like he’s about to cry. There are too many emotions flying around, and he would just like Derek to say something.

With a voice sounding almost shrill after the long silence, but steady around the words, Derek says, “I want to kiss you.”

Stiles releases a large breath and laughs short. “I want you to kiss me too.” He wipes his eyes a little, not really crying, but slightly overwhelmed.

Derek puts a hand on the back of Stiles’ head, while Stiles puts his hand on Derek’s chest, and their lips meet in their most tentative kiss so far. Derek’s lips are trembling. It’s like they have never kissed before; like Derek’s never kissed _anyone_ before. It lasts for so long, Stiles can barely remember who he was before he kissed Derek Hale, and then Derek pulls back. Just a fraction, just enough to make Stiles yearn for him to lean back in.

“Yes,” he says against Stiles’ lips. “To what you said. All of it. Yes.”

~~

“Stiles. What is that.” It’s barely a question. It’s more of a “get it out of my sight or so help me god.” What it is, is a silver butt plug. So that’s what Stiles tells him.

“It’s a silver butt plug.”

“I can see that," Derek huffs. “Why is it on my bed?”

“Because I’m going to use it on you.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Pretty sure I am.”

“Stiles-”

“Derek.” He holds him down with a look. “Are you saying no because you don’t want it, or because you’re scared to want it?”

Derek licks his lips. “You’re toeing a very dangerous line, Stiles.”

That is not a “stop” or a “too far” so Stiles just nods a confirmation that he understands they're trudging on deep waters. “I will make you feel good, Derek.”

“I don't-” He stops himself and looks down at Stiles first toy. It’s rather small, an almost completely round sphere about an inch and a half wide sits on a flat oval with a thin, raised handle that Stiles can fit his three middle fingers through. It also has a ribbed line on the top quarter of the side closest to the handle. It’s nothing obscene, and Stiles is very sure Derek’s going to enjoy having it inside him. “I am not scared.”

“So, you really don’t want to try it?”

“You want to do it that much?”

“Yes. Because I want you to feel great.”

Derek groans. “ _Fine._ ”

“No, Derek. I’m not doing anything with a ‘fine’, I’m not _forcing_ you to-”

Derek has his teeth clenched when he interrupts and says, “You’re not. You’re not forcing me into anything.” As of now, in this situation, it’s the closest he’ll get Derek to say that he does want it, so Stiles doesn’t push the issue. He doesn’t grin. He doesn’t tell Derek that he knew he’d be intrigued. He only nods. And Derek nods back. The air is charged, and it’s not completely sexual. It has some uncomfortable undertones, but Stiles hopes they’ll ease when Stiles keeps his promise and makes Derek feel good. Better than he thinks he can feel. And when he makes it a good experience all the way through.

“Should I finger you first?” Stiles asks.

“Probably.”

It’s a tip-toe game to avoid asking whether Derek then _wants_ him to do it or not. Derek stands with his arms crossed and eyebrows sharp. Stiles steps up to him and it surprises him even this time, that when he grabs Derek’s wrists and uncrosses his arms and puts them around his waist instead, Derek barely resists. He looks so unmovable, but he molds easily under Stiles’ fingertips. He drags his hands up Derek’s chest and into his hair while he says, “I’ll get you slicked up with my thumb, then we’ll try out this little plaything. Sounds like a plan?”

Without turning his head down, Derek looks at him. “Yes.”

Stiles pecks him. “Let’s get you naked.”

Sometimes, they get their clothes off without even touching. Just because it feels like a step that is uncomfortable and unnecessary, since skin contact is better anyway. But sometimes, it’s hot to desperately tug at clothes and feel the anticipation rising with every item shed. This time, it’s like neither of that. This time, Stiles kisses Derek without hurry, unbuttoning and unzipping and pulling things off one by one while Derek simply lets him. He looks at Stiles, Stiles looks back, and the frown on Derek’s face steadily exchanges with a small smile and a curious look in his eye. Stiles keeps nodding at him, like he’s promising Derek that there’s absolutely nothing wrong with this and that Stiles is gonna take care of him. Derek kisses him like he wants to believe it, and by the time Stiles guides him down onto his stomach on the bed, Stiles is pretty sure that Derek _does_ believe him because he goes down without a single protest.

Stiles keeps everything but his pants on. Mostly because all this is for Derek, but it’s still uncomfortable with a raging hard-on trapped in denim. And Stiles is positive this will turn him the fuck on.

Stiles sits down beside Derek before he realizes he’s forgotten the lube. He groans to himself and gets up again, trudges over to the bedside table, pulling out the bottle. He takes a look at the condoms and lets them be; it’s not that kind of night. Derek’s watching him when Stiles turns to the bed again. Stiles wiggles the bottle and rolls his eyes, and Derek actually smiles. Stiles gets down on his knees, leans down and kisses his lips softly before spreading his kisses all down Derek’s back. Derek obviously controls his breathing already and Stiles scratches a little on his back while seating himself.

“Don’t force it, Der.”

Derek mumbles and Stiles lets his fingertips trace over Derek’s skin to calm him down. He pops the lid of the lube and pours some put, rubbing it between his fingers. Under his other hand, Derek’s tense, and frankly, it makes Stiles feel better about the whole thing. Derek doesn’t pretend to be okay and Stiles can more easily read him.

“Here we go, Derek, you ready?” Stroking two of his dry fingers over Derek’s ass, Stiles looks up to see if he can see Derek’s face. It’s on the inch; Derek has turned his head halfway into the pillow, but Stiles can see that he nods slightly. “I’m gonna take it all nice and slow.” Stiles drags a dry finger over his hole and Derek breathes in sharply. Next time, Stiles uses his lubed up thumb and Derek twitches and stops breathing. Stiles massages the skin just around his entrance, putting only a tiny bit of pressure and waits for Derek to get used to it. He lets his fingertip sweep closer to his rim, grazing it every once in awhile as Derek starts breathing again. It hitches Derek’s composure and Stiles likes it. He strokes his finger lightly over Derek’s hole finally, adding some more pressure after a while, but never speeding up. It’s at this point that Derek starts arching, as if he wants Stiles inside him now, now, now.

Stiles laughs a little, almost silently, and when he adjusts his angle to nudge into him, Derek pushes back against him and the tip of Stiles’s finger slides in without a problem. Derek lets out a harsh whine, hugs his pillow, and Stiles hushes him. “It’s all good, take it easy. No hurry, baby.” Stiles pulls his thumb out and pushes it back in, going just as easy this time. He stays inside him. Just the tiny, constant pressure makes Derek exhale small sounds, makes him curl and uncurl his toes. Stiles could do this forever.

He doesn’t. But for a fair amount of time, until Derek lies relaxed and still, while Stiles can push the knuckle of his thumb inside him without resistance. He stops with his finger lodged inside of Derek, moving it just a tiny bit to loosening him up further and further. “I’m gonna switch now, Der, is that still okay?”

Derek draws a breath, his muscle tensing up slightly around Stiles’ finger. “Okay,” he says.

“I need a yes or a no, baby.”

“Yes,” Derek says after a while, and with the word, he goes relaxed again.

Stiles smiles at him even if he can’t see it. He picks up the toy from the corner of the mattress where he’d put it earlier that evening. It’s cool to the touch, so he holds it in his hand for a bit to warm it up. He can feel his own heart rate pick up, his fingers trembling slightly. “I’m nervous,” he laughs.

“That’s okay,” Derek tells him, and it feels so good.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, no hurry,” Derek responds, giving Stiles’ own words back to him.

Stiles leans down to kiss his cheeks and pats Derek’s legs to spread them further. He slides his finger out and takes a deep breath. He uses the same hand to get the toy lubed up, dries himself off on the sheets, and puts his fingers through the little handle. He looks down at Derek’s ass, flushed pink and looking so _ready_. To not scare him, Stiles puts his empty hand down on Derek’s back and drags it slowly downwards and when he reaches down to just under Derek’s hole, he moves the toy against him. Derek takes a ragged breath and Stiles holds still for a second. His own heart beats loudly in his ears. Everything feels hot and his chest is surely flushed bright red. He just wants this so badly to be so fucking good for Derek.

The toy is almost like a marble, it doesn’t have much of a length and therefore it goes from thin to thick quickly. Although it’s quite small, it’s still bigger than Stiles’ thumb which means that when Stiles pushes, he’s met with more resistance than he’s used to. Derek shifts but says nothing, so Stiles bobs the toy up and down, slow and never lifting away from Derek’s hole, and after a couple times, he feels how suddenly it goes smoothly and he gives it an extra push. It slips fully inside Derek once it breaches in with the widest part. Stiles can see how Derek clenches around it, so he doesn’t try to pull it out again in fear of hurting him. Instead, he gets his fingers out of the handle and pinches down on it instead, and he twists it.

The ribbed string on the top side of the plug is strategically placed, and when Stiles twists them, it massages the inside if Derek’s rim. The effect is immediate. Derek cries out, probably not expecting it, and he pushes his ass up high enough for Stiles to jerk him off if he wants to.

“ _Stiles,_ ” he breathes, like a plea for more. Stiles, mesmerized by the sight and sounds, spins the toy again, slower this time. Derek shakes, sobs, presses his ass even higher, like he’s trying to fuck himself in the plug.

“Fuck,” Stiles says and Derek laughs airly, jittery. Stiles holds up, let’s Derek relax down almost completely flat against the mattress again before he grips the handle again and experimentally pulls it outwards. Clearly, Derek is still clenching around it, but Stiles does it a few more times and soon enough, it slips out of him with the same ease it slipped in. Despite this, Derek makes a disapproving sound. Stiles grins. He presses it back down again and Derek takes it all, moaning. Stiles pulls it out again, but not all the way. Just until the precise moment it would slip off his rim and then he pushes it back in. He repeats the action over and over, Derek a whining mess beneath him. Stiles combines the small thrusts with the twist, and once he does so, Derek won’t lie still nor shut up.

Stiles makes him roll over to his side and lies down behind him, throwing one leg over his bent ones. Derek wraps his fingers around Stiles' thigh and Stiles hums. With his dominant hand on the plug, twisting and twisting it, Stiles jerks Derek off, lying like that. Derek moves his hips and it makes himself fuck into Stiles' hand when he moves them forward and makes Stiles push the plug deeper inside him every time he arches back. It all makes Stiles feel like he could come completely untouched, just Derek’s body in his hands and his pleasure sounds in his ears. Derek doesn’t need Stiles to jerk him off for long before he’s sobbing and coming, nails digging into the flesh of Stiles’ leg.

Stiles lets him come, lets him settle down into a relaxed post-orgasm float, and then he takes a grip on the handle again. “Push,” Stiles says and Derek gasps when Stiles—rather harshly—tugs the plug out of him. Derek doesn't even tense up, he just _vibrates_. Stiles strokes his chest and hair, kisses his neck and tells him, “That was amazing. You are amazing. Fuck.”

~~

“ _Would you try a thing_.”

_“You should know by now that I’m up for anything. What do you specifically have in mind, Der Bear?”_

_“Stop calling me that.”_

_“When hell freezes over. What are we trying?”_

_“Tell me something you’d want. Something outrageous. Ignore my… issues.”_

_“I like the idea of toys.”_

_“What kind?”_

_“Just something simple, rather small and unmoving to fuck you open with.”_

_“You have it, don’t you.”_

_“Maybe.”_

_“What else? That’s not really outrageous at all.”_

_“I’m a simple man. But I’d like to talk more. You to talk more.”_

_“How?”_

_“Like make you say things you don’t want to say and not fuck/please you until you do. I know that might be hard.”_

_“I told you to ignore my issues.”_

_“It’s not that easy, Derek. I don’t want to misstep.”_

_“Just don’t tell me bad things.”_

_“So. Like. What if I praised you?”_

_“How would you do that?”_

_“Like, I know your main problems are punishment, shame, and degrading language, but what about a total flip around? Tell you how good it is that you’re trying? To reward you when you do/say something I want you to? To tell you that you’re good?_

_“Would you still hurt me anything?”_

_“Maybe to make a point? Not to reprimand you, but to remind you where your focus should be. And I don’t want to do anything even remotely close to this without safewords.”_

_“That could work.”_

_“As long as you want it, Der Bear.”_

_“Shut the fuck up, Stilinski.”_

_“Wow, last name? Really? We’re there, are we?”_

_“Do you want to fuck me like that tonight?”_

_“Sure thang, sweetums, I’ll bring the toy and you just be a good boy and enjoy yourself. What’s your safe word?”_

_“I’ll rip your throat out.”_

_“I think that’s counterproductive. And as a phrase, it’s a bit long.”_

_“Wolf, then. I will see you tonight.”_

_“Good job, baby. I’m looking forward to it.”_

~~

Because Derek normally is a halfway to non-verbal man in his prime, Stiles has to force him into a face-to-face sit down and talk about what they are doing. Derek, as Stiles clearly points out, isn’t proposing to ease into things; he’s proposing to diving in deep, head first, without exactly knowing what is going to happen. Stiles, though often tripping over himself and his own impulses, decides that the best approach to this is to figure out as many possible scenarios to what can happen and how they can solve it if it does.

Clearly, Derek doesn't like talking about it. But as always, he indulges Stiles. Like this is educational, and Stiles supposes that, in some ways, it is.

He shows Derek the toy. It’s yellow, smooth hard plastic, barely eight inches and not even as thick as three of Stiles' fingers. Derek takes one look at it, ears pink, and he tells Stiles to put it away for later.

“So you approve? I can use it?”

“If you want.”

“Derek.”

“Yes. You’re allowed.”

Stiles also gives him one sentence he wants Derek to say. Derek is quiet for a long time after he’s heard it, and Stiles waits him out, unsure whether or not he'll okay that too. In the end, Derek nods and does say okay, and Stiles, rubbing Derek’s thigh, asks him to verify that he’s okay, the phrase is okay, and that he knows that he doesn’t have to if he feels that it’s too much for him. Derek even uses his words and tells him that he understands and that everything is good. Stiles leans in to kiss him before getting up and dragging Derek towards the bed. They have a movie to watch before they even start thinking about sex. Well, Stiles might think about it and they might watch the movie butt naked, but still.

~~

Derek is unimaginably hot when he begs. Stiles hadn’t exactly realized that that was a thing he was into before the idea of Derek actually doing it struck his mind.

“P-please,” he says again, craning his neck back to give Stiles a pleading look.

“That’s good, Derek baby.”

“Please…”

“A lil bit more, baby. Please, what?”

“I need to come, please, I need… _Stiles._ ”

Stiles slaps his ass. Derek gasps and gulps. The color rises to his cheeks and he hides his face in the pillow again, but he seems to like it. “C’mon, Der, you know you can say it.”

There’s a muffled groan from inside the pillow and Derek tries to push back on the toy Stiles had left unattended inside of his ass, push into th _e_ unmoving hand Stiles has around his cock. “ _Fuck_.”

“Only if you say it.”

“Fuck me, Stiles, I can’t-” Stiles presses a finger on the toy, pushing it just a fraction deeper and Derek sobs. “ _Please_.”

“Say it.” Stiles surprises himself with how much authority he musters up behind the two words, and underneath him, Derek shudders.

“Please,” he whispers again. “Please, sir, I want y-you to fuck me.”

“Good boy, Derek. You’re really such a good boy, absolutely perfect. I’m gonna fuck you so nicely because you were so good for me and told me that, would you like that?”

Derek sobs again. “Yes, please… You, though, not th-the toy, right?” He sounds wrecked. Stiles can barely keep his own composure.

“Of course,” Stiles says and kisses Derek’s ass cheek and pulls the toy out agonizingly slow. Derek whole body shakes and Stiles kisses his ass a few more times to make him relax, and finally, he starts moving his hand around his cock again. Slow and steady and Derek can’t seem to be still.

“ _Stiles_.”

“I’ve got you, baby. Turn over for me.”

As if Derek has put his complete trust in Stiles, he rolls over onto his back without asking why or what Stiles is planning. His face is tears streaked and Stiles slides down on top of him and wipes them away with both his hands.

“You were so good, baby, so now I’m going to make you feel even better.” Derek nods, eyes wide and Stiles kisses his lips. Just that makes Derek gasp and hold onto Stiles’ arms. Stiles hushes him, carding his fingers through Derek’s hair, making himself comfortable on top of him. Derek’s eyes flicker open and shut, open and shut. “You okay, baby?”

Derek nods and looks at him. “Yeah,” he says, voice hoarse. Stiles smiles and stretches to his right to grab the condom off the side of the bed, rips the package carefully with his teeth and bends his body to the side to roll it on.

“Thanks for being patient with me,” Stiles says when he twists back down to Derek.

“N-no problem.”

“I’m gonna fuck you now.”

“Please,” Derek whines and Stiles makes sure the word turns into just a sound as he pushes into him. Derek breathes heavily in Stiles’ face and Stiles chuckles, moving his arms to wrap them around Derek’s torso. He pulls back a little, presses in easily and Derek moans, sliding his arms around Stiles’ neck to make him come down close enough to kiss. Stiles indulges him and thrusts into him with a long, hard stroke. Derek arches, bends his head back and sounds like he might cry even more.

“That's it, baby,” Stiles coos and repeats the action. Like he’s looking for as much contact as possible, Derek wraps his legs around Stiles’ lower back and the angle shifts enough so that Derek scoots down on the mattress and Stiles gets even more on top of him. Stiles doesn't mind it one bit and he smiles down at Derek when Derek opens his eyes again.

“Hey you,” Stiles says and snaps his hips forward when Derek tries to respond. “Are you feeling good?” Moaning, Derek nods. “That’s perfect, because that’s all I want. Want my good boy to feel amazing.”

“Your good boy,” Derek repeats, the words quivering.

“Yes, that’s you,” Stiles says and he rolls his hips steadily now, making Derek puff out his breaths in time with each stroke and push his hips together with Stiles’ everytime Stiles fucks into him. “You are mine, aren’t you, Derek?”

Derek nods again. “Yours,” he whispers and the word strikes the possessive streak in Stiles _just_ right.

He hasn’t fucked Derek like this before, which makes it a bit harder for him to know exactly how Derek likes it the best, but going by sound alone, Stiles is managing well enough. Derek whines and moans and whimpers, he digs his fingers into Stiles’ arms at the same time as he has his neck thoroughly captured, and Derek keeps pressing on Stiles with his legs to get him deeper inside himself. Stiles can’t believe he’s been persuaded to do Derek from behind so many times when this, obviously and on all counts, is better. It also traps Derek’s cock between them, and Stiles notices that it’s enough so that Derek will surely be able to come without either of them using their hands.

Stiles murmurs little encouragements throughout the whole thing, bringing Derek up close to the edge once and then slowing down not to have him come just yet. It makes Derek moan louder and become more desperate in his kisses and pleas, so Stiles congratulates himself before making sure Derek feels absolutely treasured when he comes underneath Stiles. It’s been an intense day, so Stiles is right after him, and they whimper into each other’s mouths as they twitch and shake through their combined orgasm.

Derek’s legs go heavy around Stiles before it seems he has no energy to hold them up anymore and he lets them fall back down to the mattress. Stiles kisses his throat, laughing, and petting his hair. Derek giggles a little, and it’s the most adorable thing Stiles has ever heard.

Derek catches his gaze and holds it. “Thank you,” he says and Stiles has a feeling it’s for more than the mind-blowing orgasm.

He leans down and pecks Derek’s temple. “Very much my pleasure.”

~~

Stiles opens the door without knocking. He doesn’t reflect much on it; Derek barely ever locks it and Stiles had done it at one point and Derek hadn’t commented so Stiles had just kept doing it. They don’t exactly do a lot of mornings, but Stiles was up and it was Saturday and they hadn’t met up yesterday, so he’s taking his chances.

He stops abruptly as he turns around. Derek’s naked in bed, which isn’t exactly unusual, but the fact that the bundle of male human being that’s wrapped in Derek’s covers next to him _isn’t_ Stiles, very much is. The guy has his arm draped over Derek’s chest. They’re both asleep. Stiles stares.

He understands, deep down, that Derek has never explicitly said that he’s not fucking anyone else and that even if Stiles has chosen not to, that doesn’t mean that they’re exclusive. He understands, deep down, that it is Stiles that is in the wrong in this scenario, coming over unannounced and disturbing. He understands, deep down, that the nausea he feels, seeing Derek with someone else, is completely uncalled for because he and Derek are fuckbuddies, friends with benefits at best. Stiles doesn’t take his feelings from deep down. He feels them from the shallowest parts of his mind and he wants to cry, scream, and kick this new guy out. This guy doesn’t know Derek, how could he ever give Derek what he craves? Stiles wants Derek to stand up and tell him that it’s all a joke, that he only needs Stiles and that Stiles is all he _wants_.

It’s all extreme and he’s embarrassed by himself. But he can’t just leave, pretend that he hasn’t seen anything. So. Stiles toes out of his shoes, dropping his bag down and pads into the kitchen. He brings out a cup and makes tea for himself. He hesitates for a second before he puts on a pot of coffee as well.

Once he’s gotten his tea and jumped up onto the countertop, he hears Derek and the other guy stir. His heartbeat picks up, but he doesn’t move. Just listens. Derek sounds gruff and awkward, he doesn’t say much at all when the guy tries feebly to make everything less awkward. Stiles can hear the word “kitchen” and then steps are coming towards him. He takes a deep breath and straightens his back.

Derek has impeccable taste in guys. The guy who rounds the corner is fit, darker skinned, symmetric. He’s positively stunning. Stiles hates him a little bit more. Then the guy spots him.

“Morning,” Stiles says, voice coming off chirpy and crisp. “There’s coffee in the pot.” The guy slows down and stops in the middle of the kitchen, a wary look on his face.

“Who are you?” he asks, but Stiles doesn’t have time to answer before a now fully dressed Derek enters the room with a “Danny?” on his lips. He stops dead in his tracks when he too sees Stiles on the countertop.

“Stiles?” he says and Danny turns back to Derek.

“You know this guy?”

“Ah, I think ‘know’ is quite the understatement,” Stiles says and takes a sip of his tea. “You see, Derek’s kind of _mine.”_

Danny looks expectedly at Derek and it takes loads of time before Derek looks up to see it, but when he does, he just gestures vaguely towards Stiles. “Yeah,” he says, “I’m… kind of his.” It makes Stiles’ insides spin, his head feel heavy, but he decidedly doesn’t let his expression change from the quiet look of distaste he’s sporting.

“Oh,” Danny says and Stiles nods. “I didn’t know.”

“Obviously,” Stiles says.

He looks at Stiles like he’s not really sure what to do. “I should probably go?”

“Probably should.” Stiles smiles at him, venomous and without warmth. Danny nods and turns on his heal, only giving Derek a look before stepping out of the kitchen and going back to the bed. Derek stands still, Stiles watching Derek and Derek watching the floor, as they listen to Danny gather his things and leave.

“What was that?”

Derek looks like he wants to answer “what was what?” but the look Stiles gives him doesn't leave room for that. Derek shrugs and finds the floor very interesting. “I wanted to just have sex.”

The word hits Stiles in the gut. It hurts because Derek has a difficult time wanting _anything_ , and now he just randomly wants something Stiles clearly can’t give him. “If you wanted sex, I’m way easier than picking up someone else. I'm _literally_ a text away.”

“Did you see him, though?” Derek tries and Stiles snorts.

“He was hot,” Stiles admits. “Do you think he was hotter than I am?”

Derek grumbles but doesn’t say yes. “ _Just_ sex, Stiles. I wanted just sex. Nothing with you is ‘just’ anything.”

Stiles ignores him. He’s not in the mood to tell him that he’s right. “You told me you don’t bring guys home.” It’s an accusation. Exactly of what, Stiles himself isn’t sure about.

“I don’t.”

“But then there’s me, and now also some _Danny._ ” Derek doesn’t say anything. Stiles sips his tea. “So?” he says when the silence has dragged out for too long.

“So what?”

“How was it?”

“Just… sex.”

Stiles snorts. “You seem disappointed that you got exactly what you’ve claimed all morning to have wanted.”

Derek looks resigned, his hands pushed deep into his jean pockets. “It… wasn’t fun,” he admits, “it wasn’t exciting or experimental or anything; it was sex, plain and simple.”

“You regret it.”

Barely audible, Derek says, “I wish I’d never brought you here.”

Stiles sets the cup down too harshly and jumps down from the counter, his hands trembling, tears threatening. “Fuck you,” he says, trying to make it sound spiteful and instead it’s laced with every emotion on the opposite side of the spectrum.

Derek finally looks up, his face looking raw and open. “Yeah,” he whispers, “fuck me. Please, Stiles, I just want you to fuck me.” He holds Stiles’ gaze when Stiles stares at him.

Stiles is so easy he takes the bait. He rushes forward and grabs Derek's shirt with both hands, pushing him up against the fridge. He angrily kisses him and wants desperately to hurt him. Stiles wants to hold him down, fuck him hard, spank him, slap him, everything that makes him whine and moan, but as he bites at Derek’s lower lip, harsher than for pleasure, he realizes that he can’t. He can’t do any of those things to Derek just because he wants to, just because Derek might let him. He can’t use his anger for this, he can’t take his feelings out on a man who has been so thoroughly hurt by another person in the exact same context. He can’t be that person. He doesn’t want to be that person.

When the realization hits, the frustration quickly spins itself into a devastating state of misery, and he doesn’t want to but he sobs against Derek’s lips. He fists his hands harder into Derek’s shirt, pressing his eyelids together and wills himself not to cry. One of Derek’s hands comes up to his arm, and Derek rubs their noses together. Stiles lets out another sob.

“Hey,” Derek says and it’s the softest thing Stiles has ever heard. It makes him want to cry even more because Stiles is _mad_ at Derek, he’s mad at himself, he’s mad at everything and he doesn’t want to be consoled; he just wants to scream and break something and be done with it. Derek holds onto him, doesn’t let him slip away when Stiles tries to get out of his grip.

Derek draws a breath to speak, but Stiles doesn't want to hear it. “Shut up,” he says, “shut up, shut up, shut _up_.” The last word falls into another sob and then it’s impossible to hold it back. He bends his head down and presses his forehead to Derek’s collarbone, trying to breathe but tears interfere. He sounds like a freaking child, and he hasn’t cried like this since he was one.

Derek doesn’t say anything, but he strokes his hands over Stiles’ arms, back, neck, hair. Stiles hates that it makes him feel better.

A sniveling mess, he says, “You're allowed to want to have ‘just sex’, and bring home random dudes, and fuck whoever, and everything. I just—”he sniffs and drags hand over his eyes”—I just had this, clearly stupid, hope that you didn’t want anyone but me.”

“Stiles…”

Stiles pulls away slightly and stares at Derek’s chest. He fiddles with his shirt, drenched in tears. “I just keep pushing you. I make you face things you’re uncomfortable with, I ask too many personal questions, and I’m not easy to deal with. I know. I’m the worst casual hook-up you’ll ever have. Because I’m not casual. I always poke for more and dig deeper and I…” He breathes in sharply and manages to finally look up at Derek. His head is cocked, his expression split between surprise, unease, and fright. Stiles hates it. “You don’t owe me anything and I don’t expect anything from you. I just really fucking like you, Derek, and I selfishly want you for myself. I’m sorry. That’s not at all what you signed up for. I understand that you don’t want that.”

“What do _you_ want, exactly?” Derek asks, and his voice is raspy.

Stiles looks away. Too much, is the correct answer. “I want to be yours. I want you to be mine.” He pauses and swallows before asking, “What do you want?”

“Edging,” Derek responds.

Stiles blinks. “What?”

“I want you to edge me for an entire day. I want you to keep me tied up, leave a toy in me that I can’t fuck myself on and then sit around and watch Netflix or study or read a goddamned book. I want you to suck my cock over and over but never until I come. I want you to touch yourself to completion and drench my stomach or back with your cum, just because you think I’m being so good for you, and I want you to tell me that: just how perfect I am for doing what you tell me, for not coming even though I practically need to, for looking so pretty. I want you to slap me in the face when I get too whiny and push your fingers down my throat because I’m asking too many times for you to fuck me. I want you to force me to be completely still when you eat me out and be quiet when you finger me open. I want to succumb to you completely and I want you to understand that if it wasn’t for you, I would’ve _never_ been able to say any of these things aloud or even think them without feeling like I needed to suppress these wants. I _want_ , Stiles, and I want _you.”_

Derek looks like a rant about wanting to get _seriously_ _fucked_ has lifted seven tonnes of weight off of his shoulders. He nods at Stiles like “yeah, that's about it” and Stiles stares. He stares and stares and his brain just does not compute what the _fuck_ is going on. Then, Derek smiles. A goofy looking thing and he adjusts his grip on Stiles.

Stiles narrows his eyes. “You don’t want to fuck random guys, like, at all, do you?”

“No.”

He points between them. “And you don’t want us to be casual, either?”

“No.”

“And you don’t want to come for an _entire day?”_

Derek laughs. “No,” he says, “I don’t.”

Stiles nods. “Okay.”

Derek’s hands grip him tighter. “Yeah?”

Maybe he shouldn't ask. Maybe he should just leave it, Derek obviously just wants him. But Stiles knows himself, knows it’ll nag at the back of his mind. So, he bites his lip and asks, “Why did you sleep with that guy?”

Derek's ears flush pink. “I’m scared. Of all this. I think the whole… _you_ , with your declaration that you basically just want me to feel good and then the… the _toys_ and the... _thing_ last week… It scared me when I started thinking about it, then I couldn't _stop_ thinking about it, and I… I freaked out. Quite a lot. Enough so that I was scared that if I saw you, I’d completely lose my mind, myself, everything.”

“Okay. That’s okay.”

“I wish I hadn’t. Slept with Danny, I mean. I wish I had just talked to you. Told you all of this instead.”

“Well, _technically_ , I’m just your very easy booty-call, so it might not be the first thought that occurs to just spill your feelings. Unless you’re me, of course.”

Derek quirks the corner of his mouth. “You’re not just a booty-call, Stiles. Don't think you’ve been for a long time.”

“I don’t want to be just a booty-call, either.” Stiles crosses his arms over his chest. “And I don’t want you to… To have anymore booty-calls, unless they _are_ me,” he proclaims, faking a pout.

"That won't be a problem." Derek looks at him, almost a little smugly, and asks, “Will it make you feel better if I say I topped him?”

“Actually,” Stiles says and plants a kiss on Derek’s lips, “that makes me feel a lot better.” Derek laughs and Stiles loves it. He’s pretty sure he’s in love with all of Derek, but that’s something he’ll mention someday when he’s the only one who has gotten to see Derek naked. Preferably after edging him for so long he’s crying. Stiles smiles like _that_ isn’t at all what he’s thinking about. “We should date,” he says and twirls a hand through Derek’s hair.

Derek kisses him again. “Yeah,” he says and smiles, bunny teeth showing and everything. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

**Author's Note:**

> bitches i'm fucking back??? there's nothing better than to get out of writing slump by pumping out 20k smut in four days, is there?


End file.
